


All For You

by Raggazzed12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Borderline Insanity, Carrows Reign at Hogwarts, Cruciatus, Dark Magic, Emotional Roller Coaster, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Pining, Torture, Year Long Separation, dark themes, suggested Nuna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 77,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9932282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raggazzed12/pseuds/Raggazzed12
Summary: Or, the seventh year without Dean...which Seamus Finnigan doesn't believe he will survive. But at least he has someone to do it for - right?





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story I've published here, but this is also a fic that was posted on another site. It was my first Deamus fic, if that has any relevance, I simply thought I'd mention it. I consider it pretty high up there on one of my favorite ones to write so far. I'm simply putting it up here as a cleaned up story. The very, very last chapter has yet to be written, but I'll be getting around to that sometime in the near future.  
> I also ramble a good bit when I'm writing notes like these, but I'm planning on only posting them at the end of chapters from here on out in coming chapters.

Normally, the return to Hogwarts was full of relief and lots of hugs and people greeting each other after months apart. There was always plenty of joy to go around, often couples would greet each other with a kiss or a whisper of greeting. This time, it was all completely different.  
  
The train ride was very quiet, they were all alert and uptight. The tight feeling in Seamus’ chest wasn’t just because of the tension, it was because of something else. September had never before been such a dreaded month. He could tell the others were upset over something too, but it was the first time in 7 years that he was completely silent all the way to the school. Even his first year-which had been terrifying in it’s own way-was louder than this, but he’d had Dean back then and every year after.  
  
At the thought of that name, he shrank back into his seat in the corner of the train a little further. Dean wasn’t here. Seamus felt the same awful feeling of yearning and heartbreak he’d felt since August when Dean had informed him he was going on the run. Now he was stuck going to Hogwarts by himself with two people he didn’t really know in the same compartment as him and a whole lot of fear and doubt building up inside his mind. The memory of that day when Seamus had found out he was going to be alone was instantly back in his mind, even though it was rather unwelcome.  
  
_“Seamus...I know you’ve heard about the whole Muggleborn Registration thing.” Dean was sitting in front of him on the floor of the Finnigan’s living room. He gave a shrug._  
  
_“Yeah, and ‘m not pleased with it anymore than yer are, I bet.” That whole mess hadn’t really crossed his mind since the word got out that it was becoming an actual thing. He hadn’t allowed it to, because of Dean._  
  
_“Shay...I’m leaving.”_  
  
_His head snapped up to stare into the dark brown eyes which were a little glassed over. Clearly it wasn’t something Dean wanted to do. Heck, maybe he had been forced to by his parents, who didn’t want him in trouble. The thought that first hit him as Dean sat there in the rather uncomfortable silence that followed was “Maybe he’s lying-” but that had been dashed to pieces by the sincerity in Dean Thomas’s eyes._  
  
_“But why-how-could ya…” He didn’t complete the sentence, his throat was tightened up by a sudden lump that appeared there._  
  
_“I’m sorry, Shay. I...I understand that you want me there, but I can’t risk it, you know that,” he was apologizing, which just seemed so wrong, “so I have to. It’s for my family. And you.”_  
  
_He grabbed Dean’s hand, shaking his head, “No, yer not apologizing to me for something you can’t help. I get it. It’s just…”_  
  
_“I know, Seamus. After what happened last year…” There was a new ache in Dean’s voice. Seamus felt the same ache in his heart. It had taken so many years for him to get up the courage and once he had and once Dean was fully aware and informed him that he felt the same way, it was an awful feeling to have it completely ruined by war._  
  
_“Y-yeah.” He drew in a shaky breath, nodding without any further words._  
  
_Promise me you’ll be there in the end, whatever the end is, Shay. I have to have you there because I have no idea what I’ll be facing out there all by my lonesome.” Dean was gripping his hand tightly now, their fingers were laced together._  
  
_“I’ll be there, mate.” Seamus stared at him. The amount of emotional torture his mind was going through right now was almost unbelievable, it hurt too much to know he was about to go through a year without Dean._  
  
_“Good. I knew you would.” It was the dark boy’s turn to nod._  
  
_There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes more. Seamus found himself worrying about all of the things that could happen to Dean on the road. Sure, Dean was probably worrying about what would happen to him at Hogwarts, but he tried not to give that too much thought. Before he could say anything else, Dean squeezed his hand again, and pulled him into a hug. Perhaps it wasn’t what either wanted; they both wanted more, Seamus knew it, but it seemed to fit the mood. He practically pushed Dean over as he leaned his head face down on the taller boy’s shoulder, gulping for air as the tears finally caught up with him._  
  
_Minutes of just sitting there, in an embrace, with Dean rubbing his hand up and down his back, and he began to feel a little better. They could stay like that forever and Seamus would be perfectly fine with it._  
  
_But they didn’t, and Dean left almost instantly, leaving him to sit there with a few last, straggling tears making their way down his freckled face._  
  
He fell asleep once he’d reviewed the memory for the millionth time, head resting on the window, lightly dozing. The two other students across from him were some third years who had been sitting there when he’d come along, looking for a quiet place to sit. The others of his year were scattered about the train: Seamus had passed by Neville at some point who was sitting with someone, but he hadn’t checked to see who it was. The train was definitely more empty now. There had been commotion earlier with someone coming on and looking for Harry Potter, but they had informed the Death Eater that Harry Potter and his friends were nowhere to be seen.  
  
Once the train stopped at the station, he lugged himself and his bags off into the quiet crowd. Everyone was mostly muttering to their friends and stuff, obviously a little more than just scared of what they might see here. It wasn’t Hagrid who assisted with the first years this year, it was in fact Professor McGonagall, who was stern and rigid looking but who also appeared to be in a mild sort of distress. Seamus caught her watching him when he passed by to go to the thestral-drawn carriages with sympathy etched across her face.  
  
It was a quiet little ride to the school. He once again sat with people he didn’t know, his head bowed down on his hands so he didn’t have to help with the amount of scared glances everyone in the wagon was throwing around.  
  
For even Hogwarts seemed darker. They entered in a mob of whispers and shuffling feet. The Great Hall was the most shocking part of it all. The tables were there as usual, at least a few of the teachers were there at the staff table, but the sky above them was gray and moody. Seamus wasn’t the only one staring at the Headmaster seat when they all had sat down and were finally in place.  
  
Snape was _sitting_ in _it_. He seemed to be quite at home in it too, which only made Seamus feel more angry. There were two others sitting on either side of Snape who wore expressions that could only be described as absolutely sinister.  
  
From some whispers he caught on that these were the Carrow twins, dedicated assistants of You-Know-Who, and perfectly evil ones too. They had looks of triumph on their twisted faces; he had noted quite quickly how ugly they really were. The other teachers looked very uncomfortable and perhaps even angry, as Professor McGonagall was looking very furious at the idea of Snape in that chair.  
  
Seamus felt his own blood boil at the thought that people like the Carrows were the reason Dean had to go running. Maybe the students of Hogwarts could have done more, could do more. Maybe he could be against them with everything he had in him, because obviously, that was the type of year everyone was about to have. A horrible, awful, cruel year full of pain and misery. Rebellion would sweeten things up a little bit.  
  
The beginning of the year speech was more of a lecture from Snape in his drawling, dull voice. Seamus listened to the words feeling rather dumbfounded and bewildered. There were things about behaving one’s self and getting along with everyone and so forth. When he introduced the Carrow siblings, there was only weak applause, for most of them weren’t excited at all. Seamus felt his body grow cold at the looks the siblings gave them all. They would have been sort of funny-looking if they hadn’t been horrifying at the same time.  
  
The food was the normal amount, even though after all this, Seamus had expected it to be some sort of gruel or something -- but it was the usual amazing amount of food. Yet the Great Hall lacked its usual conversation and laughter. To him, it felt as though the entire school-yes even the Slytherins-had become deadly scared when they’d walked in to find Hogwarts upside down and backwards.  
  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


His previous suspicions of it being horrible were right. The first night had been awful, and now it was the first day of classes. He hadn’t talked to anyone at all, not even Neville in their very quiet dorm last night. The posters he’d always put up didn’t go up like normal. Seamus was feeling too awful to be bothered with something that seemed so silly in times like these.  
  
It seemed that while most of the teachers had stuck with what they taught, the Carrow twins had just taken what they felt they needed to impose most upon the students. Alecto was doing all of the Muggle Studies classes -- inwardly Seamus had felt a pain go through him when he discovered that, he only took that course for Dean and now he was concerned about what that woman was going to try and teach them. Amycus had taken over for DADA but something told Seamus that it wasn’t going to be a normal class with defense.  
  
As he trudged up the steps toward the classroom where Defense Against the Dark Arts was being held, he felt like each step was weighing him down. For some reason, he was terrified. He shouldn’t be so scared. Compared to Dean, he wasn’t in any trouble -- not yet.  
  
Amycus took the first few minutes of class to analyze them all with a sneer. He picked out a few he recognized from families, and since this was a class with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, with a few Slytherins mixed in, there weren’t many to choose from. Seamus sat next to Neville, who had given him a weak smile when he’d sat down. Currently Amycus was analyzing Neville thoroughly, and Seamus felt awful for the other boy.  
  
“You’re a Longbottom, eh?” Amycus sounded very pleased about that and Seamus felt a shiver go down his spine as he watched Neville give a silent nod to the man. “Ya watch your back, or you’ll end up like your parents if I got anything to do with you.”  
  
Seamus felt anger building up inside of him again, no one had any right to treat someone like that even if it was a Death Eater. It was wrong, all of this was wrong.  
  
“What’s your name?” Amycus barked at him, he hadn’t realized the squat man was standing in front of him at all.  
  
“Seamus.” He said it without a stutter, but he felt a bit more anxious as he looked the man in the eye.  
  
“An Irishman, hm?” Amycus leered at him, saying nothing else. The short man looked a little disappointed, like he’d wanted Seamus to play with it, but he wasn’t going to get that pleasure.  
  
It was an absolute nightmare, that first day, even if it was spent listening to Amycus analyze each and every student, and letting out a horrible laugh here and there. There wasn’t a lesson taught or anything, but for some reason Seamus figured he’d have to get used to not learning anything and simply sitting in abject terror.  
  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


“You’re really pushing some buttons here and there, Seamus.” Neville sounded more concerned than Seamus felt. He’d flopped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling feeling desperate. They were two weeks into the term now and it had only gotten worse as time went on.  
  
People had pointed at him occasionally, whispering about how he wasn’t with Dean for once, that Dean was gone, some even had gone to the extreme of saying Seamus had fought and killed him but most people turned down that theory. Seamus himself almost wished that was the case other than what Dean was actually doing and where he was, but it couldn’t be helped. He was feeling the effects of separation already.  
  
Neville was referring to the fact that already he’d spoken out at least five times in both classes where the Carrows were in and gotten warnings. It wasn’t as though Neville wasn’t doing the same, he simply hadn’t done it nearly as much.  
  
Seamus _had_ to do it because the things Alecto was saying during Muggle Studies were ridiculous and all lies, he knew it. She demanded on saying that Muggles were nothing more than dirt, and Muggleborns - although she didn’t use that word for them - were “stealers” and “wrong” for being able to do any magic at all. It had been enough for him to nearly blow up in her face. He’d been restrained by Neville multiple times now.  
  
Amycus was worse, but Seamus hadn’t spoken up as much just yet. It wasn’t actually Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore. Most just called it “The Dark Arts” because at the moment, the “teacher” was trying to get them to learn how to properly use the Cruciatus Curse on little things like spiders, and many figured it was going to be an actual human eventually. Seamus was one of these, he didn’t think Amycus could just stick with simple little bugs. It would get worse.  
  
“I got to speak for me beliefs somehow, Neville.” He took his time replying, and by now Neville might have been in the bathroom for all he cared.  
  
“Yeah, but risking getting detention with the Carrows…” Neville gave an audible shudder from where he was standing.  
  
It was evening, they had returned from dinner and many students were hanging out in the common room. Seamus had come up to escape from the crowd yet Neville had followed him, saying being social would do him some good for once. He couldn’t refuse but he also couldn’t bring himself to face his fellow Gryffindors who all knew what his problem was. Neville had just convinced him he needed to go back down before he’d brought up all the trouble Seamus had been getting into for the past few weeks.  
  
“Well ‘m gonna start somewhere.” He pulled himself off his bed and walked out of the room, ignoring whatever Neville called out after him.  
  
The common room was exceptionally quiet once more. It had been that way for a while, everyone was sort of adjusted to it by now. Without some of the usual people running about, it was a little less familiar.  
  
Pavarti waved him over before he was even able to sit down, and he made his way over to her, looking her rather expectantly once he arrived.  
  
“I was wondering if you wanted to sit here.” She motioned to where the chair across from the chairs she and Lavender were sitting in, and he gave a small nod, throwing himself into the chair. He curled up, ignoring the two girls looking at him with that same sympathy he had seen on so many other people’s faces over the past few weeks.  
  
It felt like because he didn’t have his best friend - who, mostly unbeknownst to everyone else, was more than that - with him, he either got sympathy or hatred. Most of the time it was a flash of sympathy or an apologetic tone from those who felt bad for him. Seamus wasn’t even sure he wanted them to feel bad for him, he’d rather they just stay out of his feelings; but people weren’t very good at that.  
  
Neither of the girls tried to talk to him. He wasn’t sure if he was letting them know somehow through his body motions that he didn’t want attention or if they just had better sense than a lot of students. Maybe it was both.  
  
Something was definitely being passed around the common room that night. He could hear it in the way some people talked, with their uncertainty and worry clinging to their voices. The younger years appeared to be participating in some of the whispers from the older ones and even vice versa. It was a little odd; but perhaps something had happened. In all honesty Seamus wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was.  
  
He’d heard the whispers up and down the Gryffindor table at dinner that night due to his past words to Alecto, which had comprised of a lot of hatred. At Hogwarts, literally anything that happened was spread around. People had giving him a clap on the back when they walked by, congratulating him on what he had “achieved”. The only thing Seamus was pretty sure he’d achieved was certain death by at least one of the Carrows; but he didn’t really mind.  
  
Eventually whatever it was died down and people started leaving for bed. There hadn’t been any early tests, a little surprising, but as so many of the teachers had sort of faded into shells of what they had been, it was nearly impossible to take notes. Professor Flitwick now only stood on his table and was always sort of absentmindedly drifting off into space during lessons, Professor McGonagall appeared weaker in her words and her movements. Everyone was being pushed into a corner. Seamus felt like he’d entered that corner ages ago, and now everyone else was just catching up to him.  
  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


“This week, I’ll be having you all try your new skill on an actual human!” It was said in a cackle that made Seamus shiver at its intended tone. Amycus strode up to the front of the room motioned to someone at the back of the room. The whole group of students grew absolutely silent as two first years, one a boy and one a girl, marched to the front of the room in a tiny line with both of their heads down.  
  
Seamus felt his blood boil again. It had been doing that a lot lately, and usually in the two classes he hated the most. Whatever these first years had done, it surely didn’t deserve something like torture. There were others all around him who clearly felt the same. Small murmurs of protest were heard from a few of the surrounding students.  
  
“I have brought some students who have earned themselves a nice detention for your entertainment. They will be our test subjects to see who can do the worst on them.” Amycus was sneering again, and at the word entertainment, Seamus felt himself stiffen. “Now who would like to go first?”  
  
Not a single person raised their hand. Amycus raised one of his dirty old eyebrows, dark little eyes moving all around the room. Seamus closed his eyes, wishing to become invisible. There was no way he would hurt first years with an Unforgivable Curse. The very thought was making his blood run cold. What would Dean say if he could see them all now? Would he have gone along with the teacher or would he have understood the feeling Seamus had of utter horror and hatred at the thought of what they might do to these two? Seamus had a feeling Dean would have understood.  
  
“Not a single person? You won’t be very strong yet, you’re only three weeks in after all. It’s never too early to start handing out punishments.” Amycus was growling now, skulking around each desk, eyeing every student.  
  
When he stopped at theirs, Seamus saw Neville flinch and he had to force himself to shut his eyes again. Amycus let out a small chuckle. He could tell neither of them wanted to be part of this. Seamus was pleading inside his mind for forgiveness from whoever worked the world up there, because he wasn’t sure he would survive this.  
  
“Ah, Longbottom and Finnigan,” the “professor” paused, “take your spots up front and get in line with your student.”  
  
Shaking his head, Seamus continued to keep his eyes closed. No way. No way in hell was he going to get up there and do that. There were whispers from around again: people were probably betting on which one of them wouldn’t do it and which one would. Seamus had a feeling Neville was refusing as well because he didn’t hear the other boy stand up.  
  
The Death Eater gave a sigh, “Get yourselves up there, boys, or I’ll do it for you.”  
  
A large amount of pain hit him as his head was pushed into the desk by the man beside him. The hand was hot and heavy and awful feeling, and it kept pressing on the back of his head and sort of moving it back and forth until he was sure he had a cut across his forehead. Neville had let out a gasp with the rest of the class, but Seamus was hoping he didn’t do anything stupid like actually stand up. Once his head was finally released from the death grip, he looked up through the blood that was seeping down his nose and eyes at Amycus in anger.  
  
There wasn’t enough words to describe what he was feeling right now. The people who thought like this man were forcing Dean to go run for his life and they would stop at absolutely nothing to kill him. Amycus wasn’t aware of this whole relationship with Dean, but Seamus made a promise to himself in that moment that this man would suffer for being part of what had destroyed everything in his life in one piece of paper and a few words.  
  
“Get up, Finnigan.” Amycus was more threatening now. He kept his eyes open, staring long and hard at the squat man in front of him while the blood continued dripping down his face. “I’ll use the curse on you yourself if you both don’t get up.”  
  
Seamus heard a rustle of robes as Neville stood up, but when he glanced at the other boy, he could see the nerves causing Neville to tremble. Any sort of whispers had stopped as everyone watched in amazement as Seamus continued to sit there. He refused to get up.  
  
“Good boy, Longbottom. Choose your victim and go to him now. You on the other hand will be getting a detention with me if you don’t stand up this instant, Finnigan.” Detention probably included the Cruciatus Curse but Seamus was really starting to not care.  
  
Three weeks in and he was already done with all of this.  
  
Carrow eventually had to lift him up by his collar, being that Seamus wasn’t taller than he and therefore was easier to lift. Seamus pulled his collar down furiously as he glared at the man, beginning walking to the front of the room, head down as he tried wiping away some of the blood. It had stopped, but it was still dried on there. Neville looked at him in sorrow as he reached the other student, the boy, and stood in front of him. There was no shame in having been picked up by the collar for Seamus, he instead was glad he had finally stood up to Amycus in such a dangerous position. Clearly there was no way of surviving if you didn’t.  
  
He would remember the cry of pain that emitted first from the boy’s mouth as the curse took its hold on him. Seamus hated it, he hated this, and he could feel tears coming to his eyes as he held his wand out, continuing the torture. Amycus was watching them both. Seamus stopped after only one minute, and continued to shake his head. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t going to watch these two suffer because he was doing a completely illegal curse on an 11 year old who had entered Hogwarts with hopes and dreams.  
  
Hopes and dreams of a life that was full of magical fantasies. Seamus remembered it pretty decently and wished it didn’t have to be like this for so many students this year. The magic that Hogwarts had always had was dead. It no longer had a joyous feeling to it. All had been lost when the Death Eaters had come.  
  
Neville was actually crying, with full tears going down his face. He had given up around the same time Seamus had, and he was trying to wipe it away before Amycus could see it, Seamus could see him out of the corner of his eye. The Death Eater stalked forward with a hideous frown on his face. Seamus found himself begging to that unnamed thing again that there would be nothing painful in what Amycus Carrow said to Neville because bloody hell, Neville didn’t deserve that.  
  
“Is it too painful for the little boy to see what destroyed his mum and dad?” A fake, mocking tone came out of Amycus. Seamus bared his teeth, letting out a low growl. “Get over that one real fast Longbottom or I’ll have you in detention tonight.”  
  
That was the worst class he’d ever been to. When they’d left it, Seamus found himself surrounded by Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike, telling him that it was going to be okay because he hadn’t done it out of choice. All sorts of foolish excuses came out of worried people.  
  
Neville appeared to have attracted his own crowd as well. It was only slightly relieving to hear these things, but deep down he couldn’t forgive himself. If he ever told Dean about it, would he be forgiven? Just thinking about that caused him to nearly double over in his tracks. The pain over Dean was still real for him, and the few left walking with him noticed.  
  
“If you need anything, Seamus, we’re open to help.” It was Luna Lovegood, who had apparently appeared out of nowhere and gotten the whole story down in two minutes. He gave a slight nod, but it wasn’t like they could do anything.  
  
He trudged to his next class in low spirits. If Professor McGonagall noticed, she didn’t say anything.  
  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


There was something simple in the way that life worked. It was as if it just slid back and forth between good and bad things, but there was never an in between because if one got close to that, they’d slide right back to either end. Seamus was stuck in the bad end, he’d decided. Philosophy wasn’t his thing at all. But he had plenty of time to think of things like that during breaks, even at night while he listened to Neville snore, which he was busy doing right at that moment.  
  
He was sleeping in Dean’s bed that night as well, since it was the weekend. On weekends, he liked to sleep in it and pretend that it still had something of what Dean smelled like on it. If Neville noticed, he never said anything about it.  
  
A new threat was hanging over Seamus’ head now, known as detention with the Carrows. The story of the Cruciatus Curse went around the school in a day and he had heard about it nonstop for days on end. Everyone seemed to be in pity of him and Neville. Even the teachers - aside from Snape and the Carrows - sent them worried looks for days. After that the anger turned into a different form of anger. Seamus had decided he was going to stand up against what Amycus wanted them to do the very next class. No humans were involved, but he refused to practice the curse on his classmates. He also refused to listen and pay attention to Alecto in Muggle Studies.  
  
She spoke of such nonsense that it hurt his head and his heart to think about it. “Muggles were scum”, “Muggleborns were still dirty thieves”, and Wizards with any ounce of pure-blood in them were “sacred”. Not a single person in that class argued against what she said more than Seamus did. He just didn’t let it’s fullness be known until she’d finally come to the end of what she was calling “Lesson One: How Muggles Are Not To Be Trusted” and plainly said that any half-blood or pure-blood was not to ever acquaint one’s self with a Muggleborn wizard or witch for fear of them stealing not just one’s magic, but their heart as well. During this time, Seamus had stood up and stared at her until she paid attention to him.  
  
“Yes, Seamus?” She looked at him with a scowl, her eyes staring holes into his head.  
  
“Since when did ya have a heart to worry about being stolen?” He had shot it back, loudly and in utter frustration.  
  
There had been silence from Alecto and the other students had taken the time to gape at him, open mouthed. To have said anything of the sort to this woman was outrageous. Considering it was also against society’s rules to talk against one’s teacher or boss, this was a step out of line that not a single person had seen coming; except maybe Neville. Seamus continued to stare at her, not caring that every eye was on him.  
  
“Finnigan, you’ll have detention in a week* at 6 o’clock, be ready to report to my office by then.” That was all the ugly little woman said. She had ignored him after that, which forced him to sit down again and lean his head against his hand, ignoring all that everyone was saying.  
  
Now as he lay against Dean’s pillow, he began to feel the despair coming on. It happened every time he slept here. He hated crying especially when Neville had the potential of waking up and hearing him but after the lesson in Dark Arts, neither of them minded the other showing some sort of emotion in front of the other. Neville had never really cared, truly, if Seamus was honest with himself. But he was so used to others being in the room that it was hard to shake off the sort of “tough teenage boy” act and let loose. That was, until he got onto Dean’s bed and spent at least an hour and half crying.  
  
As he went through with the “ritual” on that particular night, he considered what was to come. If detentions were really as many said, things were looking down.  
  
Every rumor about detention with the Carrows was probably true. It seemed they liked Unforgivable Curses past the point of an obsession and since so few people had managed to get detentions so far, very little was known aside from that. Some had far worse ideas about punishments, but he paid no mind to those. The rest of the day he’d been stared at. Students were more in awe at him standing up against Alecto than anything else. As far as the entire school was concerned, Seamus Finnigan was the first one of them to stand up against the Carrows and get his way with them.


	2. October

The main thing about his accomplishment was that he was totally alone in his endeavors; and that included the detention itself. He had no doubt in his mind that one day, the classroom would consist of every student in the school lined up for their daily dose of Crucio. The image was as painful as it sounded. 

Already there were a few students lined up there, but to watch rather than be participants. Slytherins. The Carrows had clearly stated where their loyalties lied in the houses the first week everyone had been back; it came as no surprise to Seamus that they would be the ones to watch.

What only made it worse was their incessant whispers as he plowed to the front of the room. It had been completely emptied of desks up in the front, leaving more room for punishment. Alecto was grinning: which was never a particularly pleasant picture. Amycus was smirking, wand in one hand and the other hand clenched in a fist at his side. Seamus came to standing before them, planting his feet firmly on the ground. Funny thing it was, that the first thing to gain him any sort of attention from them was speaking out and not doing the action itself. 

“Well, Finnigan, I’m sure you know why you’re here today,” Amycus laid a drawl in the word ‘sure’. He only gave a small flinch, not feeling threatened, not yet. “You spoke out against my sister.” 

“What she said was wrong, and yer gonna find me right one of these days.” The comfort of the brave beast in his chest was making him louder. He was speaking for Dean.

“I wonder why you chose to speak out then, of all times, Mr. Seamus…” 

Alecto snickered, “It’s almost as if you,” she gave a little hip swing as if it was cute, “had some Mudblood whom you were fond of. A girlfriend of yours? Did she die? Run away?”

A flinch was earned from him as she mentioned the ‘M’ word. Seamus was aware that Alecto was the only one to notice the first flinch, the second came at the words “run away”. 

“A classmate, perhaps, Alecto, but we shall find out soon enough, shan’t we?” Amycus let out a horrible giggle that sounded more akin to him being strangled. 

“Oo! Oo! I’ll guess first.” Alecto was like some sort of horrible flirting schoolgirl, “Let’s see...a classmate, a Mudblood, an unregistered one, on the run...one who is close to you...who you obviously care about very, very much to give such a response as you did in class…” Inside he was screaming, sweating, they would figure it out soon and he’d be doomed. Doomed because of his closeness to Dean. 

Amycus gave a very long, drawn out eyeroll, “Oh, come off it, ‘Lec. Probably one of his crushes. She’s got to be a pretty one, eh?” Still focusing on someone of the opposite gender. The relief was one that he knew would be short lived, whether days or months, he wasn’t sure. 

“Perhaps not a love interest then...a best mate? A friend?” Three flinches. The first of which went unnoticed. The second and third of which received giggles in their blatant appearance.

“Ah, so you’ve got a missing friend, ‘ave you, Finnigan?” Amycus twirled his wand a bit in the air. “Seems only fitting.” 

They weren’t the brightest, he definitely knew it now as a fact. They hadn’t put it together. Maybe they simply thought he meant friendship love when he’d spoken against Alecto in class, which at the moment, he’d take for anything. It was better than what _could _have come out of those god-damned mouths of theirs.__

“Doesn’t really matter, now does it?” Amycus sniggered, and suddenly a blinding flash of light was sent at him as the dark wizard shouted some curse or other. A cut opened up along his cheek, making it look like he’d been scratched. “That’s merely a taste, my dear boy.” 

“Oh get on with it, Amy. CRUCIO!” Alecto screamed, and everything went blind with pain.

Seamus had seen the Cruciatus curse done before, back in fourth year, when Moody had taught them it. The spider had done a strange sort of almost dance in its pain. Not to mention how Neville had reacted, which had received hate toward the professor from the students. They had even gotten a taste of it themselves, but only Harry had been able to fully block the curse itself. Seamus had never imagined the full impact upon the body it had: he was writhing on the floor, in positions his body never had managed to hit before.

Screaming is the type of thing one doesn’t like to think of having to do too often. Seamus in particular. He saw screaming as something that warped the vocal chords. Yet suddenly his mouth was open and a noise unlike anything he had ever heard before was coming out of it. Rasping, begging, pleading. Whimpering was even thrown into the mix as the torturers cackled in delight. 

There were no longer any laughs from the students at the walls, they evidently were all too horrified. 

When he came to fully again, he was a sobbing mess on the floor, no longer being thrown about in ways that were equal to a contortionist's, Amycus came up and gave him a good shove in the ribs. 

“You’re a good fighter, boy. But not good enough. We’ll get that information out of you one of these days. You’ll betray your friend faster than you can possibly imagine…” Just the thought of it caused his heart to give a large squeeze. Betrayal to Dean was in no way _ever _going to happen. It wasn’t as if he knew where the tall black boy was anyways.__

“N-no ya won’t, you sick bastards.” It came out more of a wheeze but he tried to emphasize the word “bastards” so they heard it. 

“Little Mudblood lover.” Alecto called cheerfully, and screamed the curse once more. 

The feeling of his limbs being stretched in all directions was enough to drive him mad; all he could do was scream. Every feeling of hope had left Seamus at this point. There was laughter from the siblings again as he let out more screams, throat tearing and popping at the effort. 

A sudden release sent him to the floor in a heap again, but this time they did nothing except stand there. Seamus didn’t lift his head from where he lay, sprawled out with his limbs looking left over and uncared for. A small noise from a student, a cough, reminded him that there were others than the Carrows witnessing this. It sent a shudder down his back. That any student had to watch any sort of torture and to be expected to follow the ‘example’ was almost past believing.  
These students could gossip, they would, and they’d tell their little friends about him and how his detention had gone. Not a word would come from his mouth at all. There was a large fear of what the Carrows may gather from the gossip. Students had joked - or meanly commented before - about it but not to his or Dean’s face. Now it seemed all of Hogwarts was going to know something of this torture by morning. 

“We’ll let you go now, boy. It was only an hour...a shame, really, that we were unable to continue it.” Amycus purred to him, the “professor” was standing right in front of him now. “Speak out of terms again, Finnigan, and we will commit more than two hours of this to our schedule every week.” 

The threat felt like nothing to him. As the students were filed out, whispers had already started. It was just beginning. Seamus weakly pulled himself up onto his feet and rushed out of the room as fast as his beat up body could go, ignoring looks of any type from any passing student and heading straight to his dorm where he spent the night curled up on Dean’s bed, heart aching and sobbing his eyes out until he fell asleep to the sounds of the night outside.

It was just beginning.  
  
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“Everyone’s talking, Seamus.” Neville stated it like he hadn’t already noticed the looks and the quiet voices as he’d entered the Great Hall.

Seamus felt like he’d been caught in front of a stampede of elephants and hadn’t gotten away in time. There were bruises all over his body and his face still had the large gash down his cheek. Not a single person, not even Neville, had offered that he get something put on it when he’d arrived that morning. They were all seated - looking glum - with the chatter going on all around.

Luna had joined them at the table now, along with Ginny. Seamus felt almost like he could relate to these people -- they’d all been abandoned here to make do with what they had by people they trusted. 

Ginny scrunched up her face, “They’re talking about...Seamus, you don’t know anything about Dean, would you?” 

The entirety of his mind went numb. A sharp pain tore down the center of his chest as he stared ahead at the wall in front of him. Secrets were always destroyed at the worst moment. The students had spread the worst, those damn Slytherins had said more than what they’d even had confirmed. Not only that, but this was Dean’s ex-girlfriend who was talking as if she still cared about him. Although, she didn’t, not in that way, Seamus knew that much. 

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.” Luna said gently, he saw the distinct glare she gave Ginny, who looked a little miffed. “It’s just that there’s been some talk about…well I need to get to class.” 

Even if she was a strange person, Luna deserved more credit than she was given. Especially being so good at intruding upon one’s business. The whispers were still circulating around. The cold eyes of the Carrows were watching him, listening to the student’s muttering with delight, and he knew it. Seamus gritted his teeth, setting down the bread he’d been about to butter and stood up with a small nod to Neville. There was a wave of whispers that travelled with him as he left the Hall. All eyes were on the retreating figure.  
  
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He’d figured out the truth a day later. There was a rumor going around that he knew where Dean Thomas was. Kids who didn’t even know Dean were talking about it because that was the most interesting thing going on right now. It was now Monday morning of the following week. Most people were busy scampering about, preparing for their classes in the normal amount of silence. Seamus was seated in the common room, not focused on breakfast for several reasons.

One was that the pain was still there. Most of the ache in his bones was gone, but the gash was very livid. Another was that students were still whispering in those same hushed tones that they had been whispering in since the detention. Classes weren’t really something he wanted to face right now, not when the rumors were still circulating. The Carrows had obviously heard them; and it was going to prompt them to pick on him throughout lessons. That much was obvious.

The silent Dark Arts room was bone-chilling. Everyone was seated looking around at each other and at him and at Amycus, back and forth. The first Dark Arts class since the detention. It made Seamus’ head nearly fall off from the swimming tournament it seemed to be taking part in. Amycus was standing in the front, eyes on him. They moved as soon as the man started talking and pacing once more. A minor relief swept over the boy.

“Ah, welcome back to class. As I continue on with your teaching, I think it’s only right we practice a few hexes and such. The extremely dangerous things can be taken at an ease, we’ll make do with some small dangerous things for now.” There wasn’t a sigh of relief to be heard. “I ask only for you to get into a line. I will then sort you into two lines, as it is my choice as to which will be our “victim” and which will be our “victor” line.”

There was a large shuffling as the students slowly stood. Seamus and Neville went slowly, more slowly than anyone else in the room, Seamus could feel himself filling with dread. Amycus was sorting them into the two lines as announced. He was placed in what he assumed was the victim line simply from the look the man gave him. 

“This is the victor line.” It was their line, the one Seamus was in. It was a test. Neville was directly behind him, and as the older man went on, whispered into his ear.

“I’m not going to hex anyone with something that’s too dark to even think about.” The other boy sounded sincere, and Seamus gave a nod as he bit his lip slightly. 

“Now I would like you all to think back to your second year. The Diffindo charm, anyone? Commonly known as the Severing charm.” A tongue slide over yellow teeth. “I am challenging you to use this in a way that perhaps you never thought of before. To harm your opponent. Such as this - come forward, Longbottom!”

Neville stepped forward almost like a robot - and a gash ran down his nose after a flash of light from Amycus. The new wound looked like it was about to slice his nose off, and Neville stepped back hurriedly, arm raised to stop the blood in his sleeve.The wizard in front cackled loudly. 

“I want to see you try this out on everyone. Just minor cuts for the moment. Taking off a shirt sleeve and aiming for the skin is the typical idea here, you must understand.” 

Each student gave a shudder to the effect that it was like the whole room had shaken. Almost every student that was, except for the Slytherins in the room. Draco Malfoy snickered from the front of the victor line as the first victim was pulled forward in his reach, and Seamus watched with horror as Parvati received it at the ankle and stumbled back to the edge of the room. She looked dazed, like it was completely unexpected. Each student was more horrified than the others, and each student receiving their wounds with ultimate terror in their eyes.

Then it was suddenly his turn. Seamus looked to see Lavender Brown standing there, looking scared for her life. In a sudden whirlwind of thoughts, he lowered his wand. He wasn’t going to do it anymore than Neville had said he was. The looks from students were filled with curiosity and a few with understanding as Amycus came to stand in his face. The look on Amycus’ face was full of hatred. Clearly he had gotten on the wrong side of the man long before planned. A whisper travelled through the room. 

“And what, may I ask, is this?” 

“A refusal to do what you’re askin’ me to do.” It was the truth and now there was no going back.

“You realize, young man, that not listening to your superiors is what lands you in trouble in the first place? You will cast that spell. I don’t care whether your damn Irish blood refuses to do so or if you’re just making things up to annoy me at this point.” Death Eaters needed to take mints or something once in awhile, he was getting full blast of the man’s horrible breath from where he stood, since he wasn’t exactly tall enough to be eye to eye with him. 

“I’m not going to either.” Neville had spoken up.

“Oh, is that so, Longbottom? Are you in need of a detention as well? I was going to have you perform the Cruciatus Curse on some of our first years who had earned themselves detention today, I deeply regret not having that be our final plan. I guess I’ll just have to…” A small flick of his wand, a burst of light, and there was Neville on the floor, writhing and crying out in pain. 

Seamus stared at the spectacle along with everyone else, wits not collected just yet or nearly enough to keep a steady focus on what was really happening at first. With his teeth bared, he threw himself into Amycus’ weight, causing Neville to be released from the spell as the ‘professor’s’ attention was diverted.

“Standing up for your friends again, are you, Finnigan?” He gave a snarl, then spoke while motioning with his wand at everyone else around them, “Shall I tell them that you support Mudbloods and could practically be one yourself? Maybe I’ll show them that you are the problem in this school. Mark my words, boy, you’re number one on my list of students I adore torturing; take pride in that, considering you’re one of so few.”

The tones were full of relish. Carrow very much enjoyed what he was doing. Seamus didn’t back down, instead he moved so he was standing in front of Neville. If his friends were going to be tortured, he’d take it instead of them. It almost felt like he deserved it in some ways. 

“Very well then. Detention, both of you, tomorrow night, at 5.” Seamus felt his blood run cold once more.

 

“Five o’clock … I’ve never feared a time more.” Neville was saying it quietly as they walked to the doors of the castle. 

“You didn’t deserve this, mate. I’m the only one here... I got me a reputation with him now, ‘m sure.” 

“You can’t say that, Seamus.” A shake of the head from Longbottom. “It isn’t your fault the Carrows are who they are. But you have gotten on their bad side, that’s for sure. Sort of ridiculous-all of this, in a way…” 

“It’s insane.” He said it very quietly as they stepped out into the open grounds. The sky was overcast again, the students scattered about in small groups, chattering nervously. 

Thinking about tomorrow’s punishment was too much to bear at the moment. Before Neville could talk anymore about it, Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood popped up right in front of them, grim looks on their faces. 

“Neville, Seamus, we need to talk.” Ginny was one to get right to business, a quality that was a tad too much alike to Hermione for his own liking. 

“About what?” Luna seemed to raise an eyebrow at Neville simply for asking such a thing.

“How we’re going to go against this,” the blonde girl gave a pause, “we were asked to do the Cruciatus Curse on _each other _today in class.”__

Seamus had been preparing to say something, but this silenced him immediately, along with Neville. It was truly getting to the point where he was wondering how long they could all survive in this school for the rest of the year. It was only October, damn it. A person had to survive at least long enough to see December again. 

The unspoken words in his head rang about in their malice at this thought, _to see Dean again _.__

Yet before he could say anything of the sort, they were both suddenly pulled into a corner and he found he was being thrust down to the ground by Ginny. Girls always rubbed in that they were taller than him when they could, now it seemed it was Ginny’s turn. 

“I mean it. They didn’t do that for you guys?” Luna looked around with her usual curious wide eyes.

“We were doin’ the … were supposed to do the Severing charm...to harm the others.” His throat was so dry when he was saying this he was forced to swallow in the middle of it. 

Ginny shook her head wearily, “So the rumors are true? You’ll both be having a detention?”

The news of more rumors was something completely both surprising, and not surprising at the same time. It figures the news would have spread, but through only rumors was a bit odd. Then he met the red-head’s gaze; and his stomach dropped as he realized what she had probably heard.

They were obviously all suspecting Dean in something of his actions now. After the first one most people apparently just thought it was obvious. One bit of any sort of flammable motivation and he’d be off; everyone knew that, even Seamus himself. But it was an accusation now. The idea that they could have started gaining more ideas about the whole situation was a bit frightening; as well as amusing in a weird way. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work out, Dean had said as much, but maybe...maybe a small part of it was. 

“Well we’ve got to do something. I’ll think about it for a while, Neville, Seamus, you do the same. Otherwise…” Ginny was slightly pale now, “we’re doomed.”

Luna was the first to leave the suddenly-silent huddle. Standing up gingerly, he gave a nod at the two still on the ground and hurried off toward the castle. A few people looked up as he passed. At this point, it was starting to feel weirdly normal at this reaction, but now the stares were a bit harder, a bit more focused. A bit more concerned with him in particular. 

A rumble was heard from somewhere overhead and rain began to fall. Seamus was the first to beat the oncoming traffic of students who were now running from the courtyard in a panic to escape the downpour. The first crack of lightning caused him to jump as he walked. The thought of Dean having to be out there in the rain and with people looking for him, not letting him rest because they were determined to find him brought on a small headache and the familiar aching feeling in Seamus’ chest.  
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The detention was as bad as last time, if not worse. 

He lay on Dean’s bed now, reviewing the past events in his head as he listened to the occasional moan from Neville, who hadn’t been nearly as badly done over; but was probably bruising up. 

The minute the door to the Muggle Studies classroom swung open, he had felt everything start to bottle up inside of him like a volcano preparing to explode. 

Students were already there, a small line of them. Most were first and second years, trembling with fear. It was horrifying to see such young people fearing for their own safety. At that age even Harry hadn’t had to go through any Unforgivable Curses. A few were older, scattered about the years, but none from the oldest set of students. Seamus didn’t feel any sort of relief from that. Amycus and Alecto were standing, waiting as they had last time.

And as it was last time, they played with their prey. Neville was first, undergoing remarks about his parents and “if he happened to know a Mudblood or two, mind turning them in” before he was screaming on the ground. Yet even Neville wasn’t played with for long. The smiles Seamus received as he stepped to the front were those of a predator who has found their favorite food. He was very much number one. 

“Ah, good to see you again, Mr. Seamus.” Alecto had been practically purring. She appeared to be the narcissistic one of the two by far. “I do wonder if you have any...new information about your little friend with you…?” A shiver had struck through him. Throughout the day he’d thrown any thought of Dean out of his mind so as to avoid emotional torture. 

“No, I ‘aven’t.” 

“You’re really too sweet, I’m sure, if only you could see the reasonable side of things…” Neville was huddled in the corner of the room, why he was still there was beyond Seamus’ range of thought at the time. 

“Longbottom! Get over here! I’d like to see you get the information out of him, since he doesn’t seem to trust us yet.” Amycus had called. There was no reply and Seamus had, in his head, thanked whoever watched over them all that Neville wasn’t behaving. “Very well then, we’ll get to the fun part of it. Crucio!”

The whole routine was very much the same, painful experience as last time. Screaming, neck straining in pain, and body spasming, all the while refusing to tell them anything when he was given breaks. It was certainly longer than last time, which had only been half an hour, contrary to Amycus’ lie of “only an hour”. Now it was more like 45 straight minutes of pain, and torture. There was little talking and more action, the students on the side watching in horror. 

Neville had helped him up and they exited without any further words between them and the Carrows who cackled as they left, saying things about “Mudblood lovers” and so forth. They still hadn’t put any of the pieces together. Seamus was still thanking everything he had that this was so. 

But as he was leaning against Neville with his body twitching occasionally from some sort of pain as they walked up the stairs, the familiar feeling of a headache re-entered his mind. There were still people around, hell, it wasn’t even dinner yet. Neville certainly wasn’t in nearly as much pain, it was quite obvious from the way he was able to lift him, but there was a limp to his walk. Seamus had tried not to say anything until he was in the common room, where they were swamped with other students. 

“I’ve just gotta get-get him up to the room, please, if you wouldn’t mind.” Neville bravely announced over top of the din. Seamus wasn’t seeing anything very well, but he could hear everything. 

Even his own house was whispering about him. 

The bed he was put on by Neville wasn’t his but instead of trying to refuse it, he had climbed to the front of it weakly and held onto the sheets below.  
Now there were the sounds of Neville rustling around the room gently. It seemed so unlike Neville to not reveal the pain he was probably in, but maybe things were changing now. Things had changed so much in the world already that the constant changes in friends weren’t exactly something he welcomed much at all.  
  
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The third week was full of whispers. After that detention, Seamus had felt more stares on his back and there was a constant feeling of fear and dread for when the students put two and two together, if perhaps they already hadn’t. They certainly didn’t that second week. There were no more classroom disturbances from him that week, but that was mostly due to Amycus and Alecto not prompting anything. They didn’t do a single awful thing or say anything for a whole three days. 

Seamus assumed he should have been scared, but it was better not to think about it. The sun was finally out. He was seated on the lawn, staring up in the sky, enjoying himself ever so slightly. A small amount of guilt was resting in his stomach at the thought that he was feeling happy when Dean was probably on the run...Dean would have wanted him to be somewhat happy while he could be. While they could all get away with it. 

“The D.A.” A sudden voice beside him caused him to turn his head too quickly, and he let out a small grimace before giving a look at Neville, who was seated beside him seemingly lost in thought, “The D.A.” He repeated, staring at Seamus. “Dumbledore’s Army.” 

“Wait...that ol’ thing?” Something like hope rekindled in him. 

“Ginny thought maybe...maybe we could get it back together. To fight against the Carrows and all. Standing against them outwardly.” Neville was whispering this all, but he was actually smiling for once. 

“I...we didn’t give that up or nothing, did we?” 

“Nah, and Ginny knows kids would be willing to do it, just like they would with Umbridge. I’m to be part of the command.” Neville looked proud. It was sort of a stupid thing to be proud of, but to Seamus, it was the greatest thing ever because light was being shed in the face of pure evil. 

“I’ll do it. Join. ‘m not getting anywhere sittin’ here, ‘m I?” He grinned back at Neville, who nodded. 

“Ginny figured you would. It’s going to be a little while to get everything situated. We might not be official until November. But in the least, we can do something. And stand out, of course, even without everyone else.” 

Neville abandoned him for a bit of thinking time. Anything like thoughts were left alone as soon as someone’s screams shook Seamus out of his thoughts. Down by the lake, a Slytherin stood in front of a girl who was lying on the ground, screaming her head off. The Cruciatus Curse being done right in front of almost every student in Hogwarts?

He was down there faster than anyone else, even beating Amycus Carrow who had arrived out of nowhere and was seemingly out of breath when he did. It was that little shit, Malfoy, torturing a younger, second year girl. The screams died out as Amycus came forward. The curse was instantly cut off.

“I was doing what you instructed me to, sir.” Malfoy looked completely unsympathetic at the girl at his feet. “She was talking about Mudbloods.” 

“Is that right?” Amycus had this awful grin on his face. Seamus stepped forward, aware of everyone watching him with wide eyes. 

“You’re gonna go beating up whoever talks ‘bout any normal respectable wizard or witch that you hear of, Malfoy?” The bleach-blond boy looked up, seemingly unfazed.

“Well you wouldn’t know much about respectable wizards or witches seeing as who you choose to hang out with, Finnigan,” Draco spat out, body seeming to shake with anger, “you’re pissed all because of that filthy Mudblood friend of yours running for his life, aren’t you?”

He almost mentioned to Malfoy that they weren’t even sure Dean was fully Muggleborn having never found out about his father, but he didn’t bother with that detail. Instead he stepped a little closer, not caring that the other boy stood several inches taller than himself.

“Doesn’t really matter what I care an’ think about, does it? You are going to keep up doin’ anything to keep your bloody father proud of you, ain’t you?” 

“Keep my father out of this.” Malfoy had raised his wand to point at Seamus’ face -- all around them was a complete silence, as it appeared everyone had arrived at the scene. “Or do you want them to know about your Mudblood boyfriend?” 

Something inside of him cracked and he threw himself at Draco, only to be stopped by a large figure now standing between them. Amycus. The sneer that was visible on his face was one that Seamus never wanted to see again. There was only anger inside of him now, so the obstacle didn’t really matter, as things tended to get caught up in fiery explosions when Seamus let it all out of his system. 

“Malfoy, get yourself back up to the castle. I’ll talk with you in a moment.” Out of the corner of his eye he watched Draco start moving swiftly through the crowd, and before Amycus could react, Seamus pushed himself through the crowd after the greasy git. 

Draco started running at that point, once he’d seen that he was being followed, and throwing hexes and curses backwards at a fast rate. One hit Seamus right in the knee; despite the odd pain that he suddenly felt, he continued running on. The yells of students behind were lost as he entered the castle, stopping when he realized Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. The git was gone, out of reach now. 

With his heart pounding, feeling absolutely torn in two, he marched back up to the dormitory. There wasn’t anyone in the common room and he sat on his own bed this time, nursing his knee which appeared to have been cut open. For now, bandages would have to do. 

The realization of what he had just done dawned upon him in that moment and a dry sob came out of his throat. Draco had said the words he knew were floating around, said it to his face, which only made them more realistic. Once more, it was just the beginning.  
  
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When dinner came around, the first speech since they’d arrived at the school was made. It was the Friday of the third week of October now.

Amycus Carrow stood up and stared around at everyone like they were his children and he was proud of only some of them in his cold, heartless way. Seamus felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He’d eaten - finally - at dinner, but now it felt like all of that food was a horrible choice. 

“Ah, hello, my students.” The voice chilled his blood. “This evening, I would like to go over a few things with you before we all head to bed. 

‘I would like to remind you all that all known Mudbloods are to be reported to the Ministry, or us, rather, immediately. You don’t know half of the danger you cause when you do not tell us information.” Those black eyes were staring directly at him. As were everyone else’s, but Seamus was only willing to meet Amycus’. “I will be forced to torture the information out of you if that is so. 

‘Let me make it perfectly clear along with that little notice -- a point that has come to my attention as needed to be reviewed with you all. I did not know we had such a problem here at Hogwarts. Students who associate themselves as this are a major problem and a hinderance to the Wizarding society. If one cannot supply more to our population, there is no reason for them to exist. There are students here,” and Amycus paused as if to correct himself, he was pacing, and he looked pointedly at Seamus, “I mean to say, a student here, who seems to think that it is okay...to love someone of the same sex.” 

It had been silent before, but now a feather could have dropped and one would have heard it. Walls inside of Seamus came tearing down as he dropped his gaze from the ‘teacher’s’. Looking to the ground, an unfamiliar horror rose inside of him. Everyone was looking at him now. Some might’ve been pitying -- but most seemed to be in shock.  
Seamus was in shock alright. He’d been counting on them not putting the pieces together for weeks. It might’ve been an accident; hopefully a dream. 

“And not only that, but a Mudblood!” The voice was triumphant, proud of what he had accomplished. Everything inside Seamus was suddenly water, sloshing around. It was too early. Too early in the school year. Things could have been better if it wasn’t only the third week of October. 

But it was, and everything was in pieces. 

Someone was calling his name. Someone with an awful voice and a snide tone and evil intentions. Alecto was standing at the end of the hall, waving at him with that horrible grin on her face. Seamus was so numb he couldn’t even really focus. He still wasn’t going to stand up for her pleasure, or anyone else’s. Even if everyone else was staring at him with looks of pity and pain on their faces. 

“If you don’t get up here this instant, you little fag, I will personally pull you up here myself!” The F-word caused sharp intakes of breath all around the room. Seamus felt his blood turn to ice pricks. “CRUCIO!”

The fall to the ground was more painful than anything. People were shuffling their feet about at the tables. Footsteps came like someone was running toward him: then they stopped as if being hit by an invisible wall. Amycus was laughing with his sister. Seamus felt his neck muscles throb with the screams echoing from his mouth, and now tears were starting to go down his face. Why had they found out about Dean? Now everyone knew and it was pointless to pretend. 

It had never felt like this before, not anywhere near this much pain. Last time it had been minor compared to this. Every bone felt as if it was dying inside of him as he tried to gasp for breath between the cries of pain. Someone was shouting actual words -- maybe McGonagall, he had no idea. It was aimed at Alecto for the pain only increased as her anger spiked. He clutched at his neck, clawing at it, maybe it would relieve his pain to cut it. It would certainly end it all. 

“I-will-not-follow-your-orders!” Alecto was screaming. He wasn’t on fire anymore, instead, he was silently lying on the floor with a hand at his neck. Seamus gave a groan, his body doing a checkover. This was bad. He’d been bashed into a table at least twice, and both his face and his stomach were already forming bruises.

“You will not torture a student like this in front of so many others!” McGonagall, alright. Alecto only let out a loud cackle, like she thought she was a match for the other professor. Seamus would have smiled if he’d been able to move his mouth muscles into something other than a grimace of pain. 

A sudden crack and an infuriated scream that must have come from McGonagall was heard, and then the footsteps were coming closer again. It was Professor McGonagall, it had to be -

He gave a whimper as the heel of a boot landed in his stomach. Amycus. 

“You’re really giving us a run for our money, aren’t you, laddie?” The leering old face was peering back into his. He didn’t reply, only shut his eyes. 

It was all wrong. All he wanted was Dean, and that only made his heart hurt more. They knew now, they knew; he wasn’t going to be saved from whatever was coming for him, ever. A shrill voice cried out the curse again and he was suddenly in agony once more. Someone was beside him now, through the pain he couldn’t make out who it was. 

For the first time, the screams took on the form of word. He had been forcing the word in question down for ages now, but it was forming on his lips and it would be too much to continue forcing down soon. The screams never became words from what he’d thought he’d known. He was clearly wrong. What he screamed was not going to be forgotten -- by him or anyone else.

“DEAN!” It was one word, but it was enough to silence everyone in the hall; aside from a trill of laughter after his outburst from Alecto, and the person by his side trying to shout at the ‘professor’ from their knees. He couldn’t help it. It came out again, with less force this time, his heart pulling at its core to be let loose - “Dean! Dean…” He choked it out through the sobs that were taking ahold of him despite the pain. 

A flash through the air of a curse and the pain was gone. He was just a sobbing mess in the middle of the Great Hall from the pain of the torture and pain from being outed all too soon by means of evil. The person beside him was trying to lift him in their arms. Only now, he could make out that it was McGonagall, and she certainly wasn’t strong enough to carry his entire body. 

“Get off of him, he’s mine!” Alecto was screaming, her voice raspy. McGonagall was suddenly shoved backwards by someone, and he was lying on the ground again. 

Alecto peered down at him with something that looked like pleasure and anger mixed in it. Then - ”IMPERIO!” he was moving forward against his own will, thoughts being turned to mush as she dragged him towards her on his hands and knees. It ended -- and “CRUCIO!” was shouted again. Maybe it would end by someone throwing a knife into his chest. That sounded like a lovely way to die. 

More students were shouting now. Everyone appeared to have found their voices and their legs and people were trying to get to him, how he knew he wasn’t sure, but there they were. Alecto was screaming, laughing; and all the while tears streamed down his face as he twisted, the pain stretching every bone and every limb to an extent not known before. Something cracked as an object met his ribcage, a table leg no doubt. There was a new poking feeling clogging his breathing. 

The pain ended with not a sound to be heard from Alecto. It appeared a brawl had broken out across the Great Hall. A hand landed on his shoulder, then he was lifted. Not McGonagall this time, a male, Neville. A weak sob escaped him as he was met with only more pain and then he was choking for air again. 

“Seamus, Seamus, mate-” Neville was concerned as all hell.

“Lu-lung...” Blood was forming inside of his mouth now, and he coughed, letting out a large amount. 

A few noises of disgust were heard from some of the students around them. Most sounded more like noises of disgust of concern. How could they be concerned? He was now to them something abnormal, a person who wasn’t loved by anyone because of who and what he was. Seamus had never _truly _breathed a word of it, only acted out against it once and screamed out the name of his lost lover -- which was more than enough. More than enough to let them know his feelings.__

__A chill of horror flooded through him as everything went black._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I may be a bit off with both the British and the Irish dialects... (yeah that's the correct word I think) of any of these characters, but I tried as hard as I could. I do my best to serve them justice.  
> And another full disclosure notice: I think it'll be more of a bi-weekly update from now on like this was, since I don't always have the chance or the time to update.  
> (And since I won't start bugging ya'll for anything yet, like I have been known to do in other places...) Thanks for kudos and comments!


	3. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer - and a bit more painful - chapter.

Blood. It was everywhere. All over everything he was wearing, and the bed in which he lay. The red haze in front of his eyes made it look surreal -- it all disappeared as he became fully awake.  


Seamus had been having the blood scenario for a week now. Sitting in a bed for a week really gave a person time to think. Thinking made his head hurt after a while. It was better when there were others to distract from the awful thoughts that penetrated the good ones all of the time, forcing their way into everything. All about how everything was truly about to change for the worse, once Madame Pomfrey granted his freedom and everyone was whispering and watching again.

Hell, there was already whispering. Students who came in often left with their heads together and their eyes avoiding anyone but each other’s. They didn’t come in for anyone but other friends who were trapped there; not a single one that arrived over that period of a week was as bad looking as he was.  


Seamus was even going to manage to miss Halloween, not that he had wanted to truly see what concoction the Carrows could possibly make up. It was with a longing of having Dean there on that holiday that gave him another headache on the 31st. Madame Pomfrey was doing everything she possibly could about that currently.  


The punctured lung was a scary feeling. Even now that it was mostly recovered and had grown back, blood had dared to make an entrance inside of his mouth on the occasion. Any time it did he would whimper and try to force it back down, or if the taste came back, Seamus would clutch the sheets and try to think of the tastes of actual foods.  


Neville had shown the stains left by the coughed-up blood on his shirt the day he had regained consciousness. It was so bad Seamus felt horrible for Neville, who had brushed it off like it was nothing. In the other boy’s eyes was a fear, though. A fear that was not whispered. A fear that for the rest of the times he was visiting never was addressed until the very last day the bed was holding Seamus prisoner.  


“I thought -- we all thought you’d …” The once amazingly forgetful boy sat beside the white bed, eyes lowered to the ground. “For a bit there, Seamus, we thought we’d lose you. It really was that bad and I know you don’t want to think that it was or would say that it was truly nothing but I think you’ll understand if I told you that after so much blood...and after all the torture from that bout of being cursed...we sort of lost hope for a day there.”  


“‘M not going to lose, mate.” It was said with a forced calmness, they both knew it.  


“I know.”  


“‘M doing this for him, you’ve gotta understand, Neville. I do it because someone’s gotta stand for what’s right. Show them that those people on the run, they aren’t forgotten and left to die,” now this topic was finally being addressed and some of the tension was lessening, as Seamus still hadn’t admitted his feelings truly in front of Neville, yet, “an’ they are loved.”  


Neville gave a small smile, “You do love ‘im, don’t you?”  


A nod was the best answer he could give. That was all Neville needed, because he gave another sad smile, and left. The relief at finally admitting it to a peer was immense.  
At the same time, there was the ever-growing fear that most of Hogwarts knew about it; believed it. One of his hands curled into a small fist against the bed. The Carrows would of course know and believe it all by now. They were the ones who were going to be punished someday. Until then, taking their punishments was all that one could do.  


  
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“Seamus! So good to see you walking out and about!” Luna appeared to have situated herself in front of the Gryffindor common room door for some reason, obviously ignoring anything the Fat Lady was grumbling about at her presence. It was around 10 at night, on Saturday - the day after Halloween - so he’d figured not a single person would be around. He was wrong, of course.  


“Good to see you too, Luna.” She had visited only once; he allowed a small smile on his face as he gave her a quick lookover. No new bruises were visible on her. What lay beyond that common room door would probably be more tell-tale as to the torments of the week.  


Standing up, she shook his hand gently and then became quickly serious, “You’re ready to go in there?” Mustering up his courage, he gave a small nod, “People are...they will be shocked to see you; especially in the state you’re in. Not everyone realized how bad it was. But I suggest going straight up to your dorm.”  


With a small wave, she moved quickly down the stairs again. Seamus had never known much about Luna until now, but he had always noticed that she was exceptionally bouncy and light hearted in the few times they’d ever really talked. She moved now with a swiftness that spoke of fear and nervous energy that was bound by her movements in her attempts to be careful. Clearly the state of the school had taken something out of everyone.  


The Fat Lady let him in without even ordering the password -- he didn’t know it, so it was with good intention. She had given a particularly sympathetic look at his face and that was it. The bruises there were pretty nasty, but there were more in other parts of his body as well, especially on his stomach and back.  


The common room was indeed full of every Gryffindor that inhabited Hogwarts. It was as if they had all known what the release date was from Madame Pomfrey herself.  
A few of the stares seemed to be full of anger at someone. Colin Creevy’s face was all pinched up. Others were more towards the sympathetic side, such as Ginny, who looked like she was about to cry.  


For a moment he stood still as he took it all in. Then, without bothering to talk, Seamus made his way - in almost a scurry - to the stairs up to the dorm room. Neville was the only one not in the common room, that he had noted immediately. Before even reaching the end of the room, he was attacked by a shout.  


“Is it true, then?” The question was eerily similar to one Seamus himself had asked Harry once; but this was from Lavender Brown of all people. Heads turned, looking between both himself and her for a moment.  


The fantastic idea of coming out to all of Gryffindor at once wasn’t something put into calculation. Hadn’t he done that already? Didn’t they already know?  


It was fully obvious Neville hadn’t said a word. Not a word had been uttered about Dean. Only the first years here didn’t have any idea who he was but even they looked completely interested. With as much self-control as he could maintain, he gave the second small, tense nod of the night.  


Neville was waiting by the door, it seemed. He walked in slowly, he’d gone up the stairs after the nod without a word and heard the whispering like wildfire begin.  


Longbottom didn’t seem phased by anything, not even the fact that there were some shouts calling from below them. It was sort of nice to have someone who truly didn’t care if you were completely fucked up in every way possible, who wouldn’t comment on your situation at all. In fact, Neville said absolutely nothing all night. Not when Seamus came out of the bathroom having changed and he was met face-to-face with Neville who gave a small smile and then went in himself. Not even when Seamus, after placing a few of his things on his own bed, went and sat on Dean’s bed. Privacy was something Neville Longbottom seemed to treasure.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


The morning was quite bleak already. Clouds hung overhead, but not rain clouds; rather, dreary clouds that spoke of nothing but gloomy and overcast days to come. It was already cold outside so they might as well have been snow clouds for all anyone knew.  


Seamus had spent a lot of the first few minutes awake downright panicking inside about going into the Great Hall again. People were going to be there -- it was the weekend so maybe a few wouldn’t be, but there would be enough to get looks.  


Neville had gone down before, uttering a word of caution to him. The Carrows were on the look-out again. Apparently they had thought a detention was needed for someone but Snape had reportedly told them that it wasn’t smart to have one so soon. The reasons he had given were not disclosed to the students, at least, Neville had no knowledge of any of them.  


With a deep breath, the short teenager made his way down to the Great Hall, nerves steadying themselves with some uncertainty. There were a few people in the halls but they didn’t actually turn to look until Seamus had passed by. None of them whispered: they wore faces of shock as they got a good look at the facial bruises.  


Entering the Great Hall was worse. The coloring in the sky didn’t help the mood. As soon as he entered, anyone who had dared to be whispering shut up. There was an assortment of gasps from students who’d had no idea it was this bad. A very apologetic Neville waved him over quickly, and he did so, keeping his head up, not daring to look away or down. The Carrows had drawn their bodies into their full, squat heights when he had arrived, faces becoming completely blank of emotion. A quick glance at the headmaster showed that Snape wasn’t even on the verge of caring. That mood was average, Seamus figured it was safer when the dark man was like that.  


“I should’ve known it was going to be bad.” Neville was apologizing for something completely out of his control, eyes flickering between tables.  


Sitting down, he gave a nod, “I didn’t ‘spect anything different.”  


“Word got around,” Ginny spoke up, “word got around really fast this morning, I’m sorry, Seamus...we tried to… we tried to prevent anything like that. It was too much for one person to handle.”  


“The Carrows gave us a quick talk before we started eating this morning. All about spreading gossip and stuff, really pointless, I think, but they knew you weren’t in yet and I think they wanted to find out for themselves that...well they know now. It was all Pansy Parkinson’s fault.” Luna offered gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Alecto demanded we tell them what was real and since people knew so much already, Pansy and a few others stood up at almost the same time - a little comical, I think - and said practically all the same thing at once.”  


No one needed to say anything more. He didn’t want to know what things the Carrows may have said, and he didn’t want to know what things the students said when they had spilled it out.  


After all, his throat wasn’t still sore for no reason whatsoever. The memory of shouting Dean was the one thing very vividly fresh in his mind, he didn’t remember the other parts anywhere near as well. They were all hazy with pain.  


“We’re getting the D.A. back together, it’s official.” Clearly this was their way of trying to get his spirits up.  


“People want to join again. We gave them our list of reasons. You were a really big factor people's eagerness, I think. Everyone seemed to lighten up.” Ginny gave a reassuring smile. “And before you ask, we met in the Room of Requirement. It’s like the castle wants us to fight back again.”  


Giving another nod, he proceeded to pick at his food, feeling like maybe the hospital wing was a better place to reside in. At least there there wasn’t every pair of eyes in Hogwarts focused on him. It seemed like everyone was expecting something, like some sort of show. They weren’t getting anything, as far as he was concerned.  


They’d gotten him out of the closet by force. Nothing else was going to be forced to be revealed from anyone. Seamus wanted to protect anyone else who had a secret or wanted to stand for the right choices, because he couldn’t have them going through the same things he’d gone through with that previous torture.  


“I’m going to go over there and punch Malfoy if he doesn’t stop it with that face.” The tone was absolutely murderous in Ginny’s voice as she tried to stand up, but Luna pulled her back down.  


“He isn’t the only one... they’ll all get what’s coming for them someday.” Seamus gave a shake of the head at this sentence, he wasn’t so sure about that idea anymore. With a small groan of pain, he pulled himself into standing.  


“You don’t have to leave. We won’t let-” But Neville was wrong, so he cut the other boy off.  


“I’m just going to get something I forgot in the room.” Lies were sometimes a wonderful thing.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


“We’re all really anxious to start, I know,” Ginny was speaking from the front of the room. Seamus glanced around to find that everyone was looking between him and Ginny.  


The day had truly not gone fast enough. There were no classes with the Carrows, but it didn’t seem to lessen the amount of stares and pained looks from every student in every house. Some students had given him a light slap on the back to show support. Even the teachers seemed sympathetic, glancing at him every once in awhile as if he was going to fall over in a dead faint suddenly.  


That of course didn’t happen, although if it had, Seamus would have welcomed the unconscious state gladly. He was starting to wonder how Harry had been able to stay standing through the past 6 years every time something happened.  


Now the remaining students who had joined the D.A. again sat in the Room of Requirement. Out of the three leaders, Luna was the quietest. Neville seemed to be just following in Ginny’s shadow, and Ginny was definitely the leader. She had some sort of air about her that was indescribable. A higher authority, or rather, a leader’s air about her. Sitting and relaxing without school work was nice, Seamus had to admit, his body had been stressed all day, but some of what Ginny was about to talk about was starting to make him feel shaky again.  


“And we all have our reasons for doing this,” every eye in the room was on him now, even Ginny’s, “so I expect you to give all you’ve got. We won’t stand for what they want us to do. Torturing first years is as unfair as it sounds. Dumbledore would never stand for it, so we won’t. Some of us are missing, it’s true. But do it for them too, if you weren’t already.”  


“Are we going to learn anything?” Terry Boot spoke up, his head turned slightly.  


Neville gave a look, “I’d expect you to use what you know. We can practice. But we’re mostly doing this for the sake of saving people’s lives.”  


“I don’t see why I have to take pain instead of someone else,” Lavender was always a bit of a selfish one, it wasn’t terribly surprising she would act this way, “if we’re going to suffer instead of them, what difference is that making in our world?”  


“Hopefully we won’t be beaten.” Luna said softly. “If we are, then it’s for a good reason. But otherwise we have to also avoid getting tortured.”  


There were some uneasy mutterings that floated around the room. It appeared not a single person here really wanted to suffer. And who could blame them?  


Yet letting sleeping dogs lie wasn’t something Seamus Finnigan had ever been known to do. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let everyone here think they could just get off the hook like that, with all their excuses. He also was sure as hell that they didn’t actually want to get off the hook, as there was a lot of fear circulating everywhere currently.  


“I know it’s hard to believe that anyone would give up everythin’ to save another person,” he stood up, putting on a tone of voice that would hopefully give them the idea that he wasn’t scared to talk to them, “but you gotta understand something. What they do is wrong. Everything they say-wrong. We can’t let them go around saying this about people, ‘cause then others believe them. Letting us practice any sort of Unforgivable Curse or dark magic on someone who may be weaker than us? And actually doing it? Stooping to their level, I tell ya. That’s what it is.  


‘Or-or telling kids that someone is messed up, wrong, because of who’s kids they are? Because they are apparently ‘lower than the rest of us’ just because of the blood that runs through their veins? But in the end we all know it doesn’t matter. Everyone is the same, Muggles, Muggleborn or Halfblood or even Pureblood. I know I’ve got a reason that most of ya don’t. Yes, ‘m doing it for him. But you’ve got to have something to hold onto. Hell, hold onto Harry if you want. He’s running around the country himself, he is. Gives us every reason to do something like this. You can walk out without a reason to live, or you can stay here.”  


More silence followed as everyone looked around in amazement or shock. Seamus sat back down, looking at the floor. Well, there it was. A proclamation of love, basically, without saying the word “love”, though it was almost as if it had been. It hadn’t seemed appropriate for the topic at hand.  


“Seamus is right.” Ginny was beyond grateful, she even sent him a quick look of thanks when he finally raised his head. “We all have our reasons. Mine is Harry, and everyone else’s can be too. Whatever it is, we’re here to stop the Carrows from murdering students in cold blood. All of you will find it in you to stand with us, I’m sure. This is a promise, of course, and everyone here is bound to secrecy upon entering this room.”  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


With a slam, the books landed on the table next to him. Neville made a short huffing sound like a sigh in the direction of the front of the room, probably aimed at Amycus who stood looking very pleased with himself. Two days and Seamus had been able to survive because he wasn’t in a single one of the Carrow’s classes for different reasons. Yesterday Madame Pomfrey had called him to the infirmary during Muggle Studies, so he’d avoided Alecto to get checked on. The bruises were still very livid and yet his face had lost a bit of its swelling. People were still acting strange, even the Gryffindors, maybe because they knew, or maybe because they feared what the Carrows would do to them for interacting with an actual gay person. The light taps on the back and shining eyes full of support still happened from multiple students of all ages, but for the most part, no one talked to him. Seamus didn’t even blame them.  


The throat clearing that had grown so familiar to all of them was made very loudly and distinctly from the front of the room. All eyes turned to Amycus, who was pacing once more. His hands were crossed in front of him.  


“Welcome to class, my students,” there was a slight tremor through the classroom, “and welcome back, Mr. Finnigan.”  


That was said with a very cold tone. There was no sign of welcome from the ‘professor’; Seamus had been expecting far worse of a recognition to the class, so much so that he almost let out a sigh - and then Amycus continued his little speech. Students seemed to be playing table tennis between the two of them with their eyes.  


“I’m glad to see Madame Pomfrey has gotten your little Irish self back into some sort of recognizable shape. It gives us more freedom now that everything’s cleared up.” The idea of whatever freedom that was made Seamus shudder, but he tried to prevent Amycus from seeing his reaction. That would only cause more taunting of some sort. “I’ll have to be true to you, I didn’t expect to have my number one, absolute favorite student to banter with to be back so soon. It’s almost as if-” a little flick of the wand in his hand caused some students to flinch, “you’re asking for more.”  


“But I will have to restrain from such things until your next detention, because believe me, Finnigan, there will be another. How do you say to...Friday, at 6?” The sudden slam of a hand on the table beside him made Seamus jump slightly, and he turned to see Neville looking furious. Amycus continued talking. “Anyways, let us get to today’s lesson. I haven’t had you do any sort of real experiments on fellow students yet, but I decided maybe fellow students of your year weren’t the best objects. Often you fight a person you do not know so well, so I have chosen other peers for this little time of fun. You have all grown much stronger with your Cruciatus Curse over the past two months. I expect you’ll be quite good at them on an actual person now.”  


Another shudder forced its way through him. There were no voices heard, not even from the Slytherins now. Amycus made a clucking noise and a small group of first years trailed out of his office door. This time there were far more, it looked like there were 10 over all. Some of them didn’t seem to want to show a single expression of emotion in front of the seventh years. Others looked downright terrified as they created a single file line, pushing each other to go farther back, making no noise as Amycus looked on in pleasure.  


“Good, good. Alright, I want all of you to come forward. There are not enough to go around, but we’ll get into our own line. Since this is the first time almost all of you have performed the Cruciatus Curse on a human being, as I’ve only had you do it to your bugs and such, I’ll give you fair warning. Humans are a bit more resilient than bugs - but not younger ones. These children are not as hard as it would be for you to do it on each other - that is a different challenge.” There was a glint in Amycus’ eyes that spoke of something more, he wished for them to really harm these kids. Seamus followed Neville up to the front, but he felt his body stiffen in fear as they formed the line.  


Somehow he ended up behind Parvati, who gave him a look of despair over her shoulder. She seemed to be one of the few Gryffindors who wasn’t scared of having a long talk with him, in fact they’d had a few conversations over the past few days on the D.A. and about where Harry might be and other rather mindless things. Seamus had always found Parvati to be a nice girl, but he’d never really talked much to her before. Now that she was willing to have full on conversations, he was realizing the extent of her kindness. She wasn’t really afraid of what Amycus might do to her if she talked to an alleged queer student.  


Once the directions had been sorted out, Amycus gave Parvati a smile and told her to “get on with it”. The first year in front of them was a Hufflepuff boy with wide eyes and a very pale complexion, as if the castle was sucking all the natural color out of him.  


“Well go on, Patil.” Carrow let out a cackle. Parvati didn’t budge.  


“I’m not going to do it.” She sounded scared despite her obvious attempts to hide it. Seamus squeezed his eyes shut. “I won’t do it, in fact.”  


“If, Mrs. Patil, this is some sort of refusal on behalf of fellow classmates, I suggest you get over it. In fact, has Mr. Finnigan here has been giving you ideas?” Amycus was growing angrier by the minute already. Seamus lifted a hand and gave Parvati’s shoulder a tight squeeze to comfort her, and then dropped it as the cold black eyes found his. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, boy, getting them all on your side, trying to force them to like Mudbloods as much as you.”  


“He didn’t put me up to this. This is of my own doing.” Parvati said sternly, sending a quick glance of that same warm gratefulness that Ginny had to him the other day.  
Amycus gave a snort, “I don’t believe you, but if you’re going to be so resilient, do we have anyone else who wishes to stand out of this and receive their punishment along with the first years?”  


Without a word, Neville stepped out from behind. Seamus watched with fear growing in his chest as Longbottom stepped up next to Parvati. Fear would not win, and he joined at their side, giving Amycus a particularly nasty glare and a rude gesture at his side with one hand. Amycus gave a hiss at it, but turned his attention to the next few Gryffindor students who came out of the line. Even Gryffindors who weren’t in D.A. were standing next to him, and a small amount of pride for his house found its way into Seamus’ mind. The Slytherins remained in the line, watching in both surprise and mock amazement.  


Amycus looked murderous. He would have killed them all right then and there if Seamus hadn’t taken the chance to take one more step forward. He heard a few intakes of breath behind him: students wondering what was going to happen next.  


“‘N case you haven’t noticed, none of us are going to carry this out. I suggest you let them get back to their classes. Ya aren’t going to get any of us to do anythin’, and the ones who are still standing in line are in their respective place, as you would say.” He spat the words out, each one costing him more time spent with the Carrows in detention -- and he knew it as well as Amycus did.  


“Oh, they will...you, on the other hand, might not.”  


“And how’re you gonna make them do that, eh? Use another Unforgivable Curse and force them to do it?” The first years were all looking both panicked and confused now, as if they didn’t quite understand what was happening. Truthfully, Seamus wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing either but he knew it was for the better.  


“You’re a real smart mouth, Finnigan. I thought I wouldn’t run into a single person like you here, but I shoulda known better.” Amycus had twisted his mouth into a sneer, and then he raised his wand and shouted “CRUCIO” faster than Seamus could respond.  


It was almost a welcome feeling now, with his legs falling to the ground and the screams happening again. At least there weren’t too many things to be bashed up against here: and the pain stopped as quickly as it had begun. Neville stood in front of his fallen body, facing the other way, clearly having distracted Amycus. There was the sound of a roar of outrage from the ‘teacher’.  


“Get out of the way, Longbottom!”  


“Not again.”  


“Not again, boy? Not again? Are you worried for your friend’s safety? Is Longbottom scared for his fweind?” Even mimicking a child’s voice, Amycus sounded cruel and cold.  
“If you do anything else to him, he’ll die. I’d expect you’d want to save the killings for sometime later in the school year.”  


Amycus let out a long cackle this time, “Oh you’re a funny one, Longbottom. I won’t continue -- but not because you wish me not to. Oh no, you’ll get back into that line and so will he and all of your little Gryffindor friends. Now.”  


Everyone found their way back into the line, and Neville offered a hand to pull him up. Seamus leaned against the nearest desk, his body nearly giving out. It had not welcomed that new dose of pain. Amycus was handing out detention to some of the students, he heard Parvati’s name be called and shook his head. He was unable to do anything. He didn’t hear his name mentioned once in the list of detentions.  


A small part of his mind was grateful. The rest of it was trained on his friends who were about to suffer and he wanted to help them, but he knew he couldn’t. This is what one gets for standing for what was right. Seamus was one of the few here who truly understood that.  


“Alright, Malfoy, do your worst.” The screams of the girl being tortured caused him to cover his ears and stand stiff against the desk, not opening his eyes until it was over and all of the horrible damage had been done.  


  
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His body was exhausted, the day had passed painfully. The bed was the only comfortable thing that he’d sat on all day. The stairs up to the dorm had felt like hell on every bruise.  


Seamus was considering his options of things to do; when something in his open trunk caught his eye.  


A bag with a thick little book in it, the binding on the leather rather worn and stretched. It was a book of writing. More importantly, his writing, a journal, rather. Dean...Dean would encourage him to write. Writing had always been an outlet, not that Seamus did a lot of it. He would write little passages or stories. Secretly, he’d kept a journal for years; it hadn’t been opened in a long time. There had been the time Dean had discovered it in fifth year, but luckily hadn’t read any of it. He’d been so nice about it: Seamus had honestly not known what to expect.  


The scents and sights of that day flashed before his eyes as he stared at it-every inch of the memory lodged into his mind.  


_“Shay, I found this on the bedside table and was wondering if it was yours.” Dean was holding out the small, thick book, with its precious leather binding and all. He grabbed it in a moment’s notice._  


_“That’s mine, thank you.” He didn’t mean to sound rude. Dean gave a small shrug._  


_It was hard to pass through the tension and talk to each other. Seamus was still going to be angry at Harry no matter what his best mate tried to talk into him, even if it meant nearly losing Dean. That hurt a lot, although it was somehow easy to withstand it. Seamus was under the impression that he deserved it, after all, he hadn’t had such strong feelings towards one person since -- well he didn’t think they’d ever existed._  


_Inside the little book were secrets he could never let Dean read. Things about his feelings for Dean Thomas, his best mate, and the horror he’d felt when he’d discovered them. There was fear in almost every word inside that book._  


_“You know, I don’t mind the fact that you keep a journal,” Dean’s voice was gentle and broke him from his thoughts as he shuffled through his belongings for the case that the book usually stayed in, causing him to freeze, “it’s sort of like my art.”_  


_“No, it’s not like your art, Dean. It’s not as important and doesn’t make a difference to me.” He lied with newfound stiffness._  


_“I didn’t look, Seamus. I just happened to glance at the cover and it’s pretty obvious what it is since you wrote “Journal” on the top of it.” Dean didn’t know how cute he was being with that face of apology -- Seamus tore the thoughts away and gave a small nod._  


_“Okay then.”_  


_“Good.”_  


_There was no more spoken between them, and he felt Dean’s eyes on him for more than a few minutes after that. The idea of Dean looking at him sent his mind into a flurry of emotion and rather hormonal buzz. He still brushed it all away. The last thing he needed Dean to know was what he was feeling. And from the feel of it, he might have a hard time concealing those if Dean kept looking at him and he happened to turn around._  


But Dean didn’t mention it even after that. It was like it was something natural, for a boy to keep a whole book of his thoughts and feelings.  


Snapping out of his daze, he pulled out the book from his trunk. It was still in it’s case, having not been unwrapped once in the past few months. Nothing had felt worth writing. Even if he had finally gotten what he’d wanted from nearly the beginning of the journal: Dean.  


He hadn’t really gotten the other boy, since he’d lost him so fast after finally getting him. The journal hadn’t been informed of that. It hadn’t been touched since sometime in March last year. It had only been packed with the careless thought that maybe some ounce of him would want to use it.  


Opening it up, he pulled out a quill and flipped to the cleanest page. The little brown book had a lot of pages, and it had lasted for many years, but he was definitely running out of room by now.  


9:20 PM November 6th, 1997  


_I haven’t written in a while. I guess maybe it’s because I’m scared for what might happen if I say anything about having hope like I have so many times before in here. I did get Dean, well, maybe he got me. Turns out he liked me back just as much. We got together at the end of last year._  


_He’s on the run now. Muggleborns had to run for it. Ministry’s gone evil, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is really powerful again, he’s taking over. The school’s been taken over by the Carrow twins. They’re really horrible people. Death Eaters themselves. Snape’s become the headmaster._  


_Dean had to run because he was all worried about his family. And me, I guess. He didn’t want to be caught with anyone who might get into trouble if they were with him. We don’t even know if he is really Muggleborn, his father’s just … unknown and out of the story. But I guess it’s mostly for the safety of those he loves._  


_He told me he loved me. All summer long, over the letters, during the week we spent together in July, and then when he came to tell me he was leaving. I should have done something more. Maybe. I’ve cried so many tears over the past two months I’m wondering if I’ve finally become that blabbering school girl that I was scared I would become because I was in love with a boy. Hell, I wasn’t in love back then. It was a crush. Now I’m in love and it’s terrifying._  


_Got beat up, I did. The Carrows figured it all out too soon - and with them, the rest of the school. No one’s really sure how to react, I guess. People don’t talk to me. Not that any of them did. Not that I want them to. I just want Dean. That’s all. It would be so much easier if I had him to talk to - but I’m glad he’s not here because he’d get beat up and I don’t want that for him. It’s horrible. And it’s going to get worse. It’s only November, goddamn it. What is a man supposed to do? How am I supposed to survive?_  


_The D.A. got itself back together, except now we just stand against the things they’re making us do instead of practicing against the dark arts. It’s good, I guess. Half the class stood up against beating up first years the other day in Amycus’ class. Most of them weren’t even part of the D.A. but I think we haven’t all been scared shitless yet. We will be, oh I’m sure it’ll happen. After the next brutal beating._  


_I managed to get the first detention of the year, and the first public torture of the year. Should be awards. They hate me because I love Dean. I hate them because they are so prejudiced and truly evil._  


_I want to write it a thousand times. And more. I love Dean Thomas. I love Dean Thomas. I’m in love with Dean Thomas and I don’t regret it. I love Dean and I’m ready for whatever they throw at me because I love him so much._  


_Maybe I have already listed all of the things that I love about him before, but I want to do it again._  


_I love Dean Thomas. His face when it lights up into that smile that shows his beautiful teeth and his eyes sparkle. The face he puts on when he’s talking to me, one that shows how much he cares about me. The face that appears when he tells me he loves me, because that’s a great one, it’s all soft and blurry around the corners and his eyes are warm and welcoming. His laugh and his voice, his lovely accent. His lips - even in the few times I’ve been truly near them I’ve studied them. His height, even as annoyingly tall as he is._  


_His skin is beautiful. Smooth, and just the right shade of chocolate brown. Long fingers, an artist’s fingers I suppose. He’s gentle and touches with the right force and the right carefulness. His eyes are possibly the warmest and best part of him, reflecting what he sees and showing how much he really cares. A deep chocolate brown._  


_When he’s painting or drawing he’s so beautiful it makes my heart ache because he’s doing what he loves and it shows. He’s shown me pictures he drew of me and they’re so beautiful and the last time I finally got to kiss him when he showed me one because we were out then -- and now look where I’ve landed. Turned sappy, maybe. But it’s for something. I only have those images to hold onto..._  


_I hope this year ends with him knowing how much I love him. If I died because of the Carrows, I would want him to read this. To know it. Because I know Dean’s still alive and out there, I can feel it. It’s sort of weird to admit that, but it’s true. And I’m not going to let him go._  


Taking a moment to soak in all of the words, he set the quill down and closed the book. Each word had flowed out in glory and triumph. Finally admitting to the one object-that had known of his desire of Dean since the start that he was finally with Dean was an entire weight being taken from his shoulders. It was a wonderful feeling.  


  
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“Seamus! We only just found this-listen!” Neville was practically bouncing up and down, a grin on his face, a radio in his hand.  


It was almost 9 at night, the D.A. was sitting moodily in the Room of Requirement’s newly provided hammocks. The topics of the day had dissolved into silence, as Neville, Ginny, and Luna had been off somewhere. Apparently what they had been doing had something to do with the voice coming out of the radio now, as it was a voice Seamus recognized. Lee Jordan. Their old housemate. Shock flooded through him. A friend of his, actually, or had been, and Dean’s too.  


Except that the name Lee was using currently wasn’t his own. It was a good thing Seamus recognized him, or otherwise he would have been a bit lost. The program had obviously just started, an odd time perhaps but it at least was a good time. Neville placed it on the ground, sitting down beside it.  


“With that, I bring you the list of presumed dead wizards, witches, and others, last known to be on the run,” the air in the room seemed to tense as most turned their eyes to him, but Seamus continued lying on the hammock and staring at the ceiling, hope entering his mind immediately, “Amanda Hill, Katie Hevens, Dillan Smith, Alice Porter, the goblin Hackspoke, Andy Reed,...”  


The list went on for a little while longer. When the name that he feared most was not mentioned and there was a “moment of silence” as announced by Lee, or rather, River, he took it to thank everything above that Dean had not been named. Everything started moving in proper time again. They were all listening in rapture to the radio as the next topic came up.  


“It seems we have some reports from Hogwarts. I’ve warned you all that having greasy hair will rot your brains out, but the Ministry apparently disagrees. Reportedly the students are learning valuable lessons and everyone has been well-tempered, although I think we all know that those lovely Death Eaters now residing there have the temperament of a tea-kettle.”  


A bit of everyone relaxed. Seamus had been truly scared as to what Lee might say, but he knew that there was no way anyone was aware of what was truly happening here. The comment on Snape had received a bit of a chuckle from most of them.  


“Potterwatch” was finished within the hour, and for a few moments there was silence. A lot had been told through the night, things they weren’t aware of, things they wanted to say weren’t real. People were dying fast out there. It seemed each person was a bit more shocked than the next. For the first time in a few days, Seamus felt like maybe the students were finally pulling back together at the mere mention of what they were really fighting for.  


  
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“There’s been more attacks.” Neville was holding a letter from one of his family members, which consisted of recent news. How it had gotten past the Carrow’s extreme security when it came to mail was beyond any of them, but it was welcomed.  


Seamus hadn’t talked to any of his family since he’d left in September. There was only a small amount of guilt lodged in with the thought of his mother. She had been his support stone for so long -- of course that had all fallen through when she’d learned that her only son was gay. It didn’t help that Dean had been there when he’d finally confessed. If any letters from her had been sent, Seamus wasn’t sure he wanted to ever see them and was almost grateful at the knowledge that they may have been confisticated at the hands of the Carrow twins.  


“People are dying everywhere, it’s always the case.” Luna murmured dreamily.  


Neville looked up quickly, “Yeah but now with the Ministry taken over, it’s gotten worse.”  


Bright morning sunlight bit back what Seamus was about to say as it streamed in through a crack in the clouds above the courtyard. A few shrieks of delight were heard from some younger students -- who were quickly silenced by a few older ones who feared the shouts would be heard. Any sort of joy seemed to be permanently disbanded.  


Most students were huddled over their letters. Morning mail hadn’t been arriving like it normally did for the past two months, and then suddenly in early November, Headmaster Snape had dropped all of the mail that had been searched through and checked and was seen as safe on them. Neville was the only one aside from Ginny who had gotten anything. Seamus wasn’t envious, his mind was still on the topic of his mother.  


“Seamus, why haven’t you got a letter?” Why was Luna, of all people, asking him that? He felt a bit of anger rise inside of him at the thought of why became thickly embedded in his head again.  


“Me mam...It’s a long story,” he gave a shake of his head, “she got angry at me. Didn’t think that her son would ever be...like me. I should’ve ‘spected it when I told her but when she yelled at Dean…”  


“She yelled at Dean? Why - was he there for any reason?” Ginny had arrived at some point and was looking absolutely horrified.  


“Visiting over the summer, July, there was a short week where we were together and...that’s when I told her. It was a mistake. I regret it all the time. ‘M not sure how it would have gone differently if I hadn’t, it was a bit obvious. She blew up on him an’ then left to go someplace, maybe the pub, ‘m not sure. Blamed it all on ‘im. Should’ve seen that coming, I should have.”  


“I think she just needs time.” Luna looked around at all of them with a soft smile, “When I told my da that I was doing illegal activities at school in fifth year, he really blew up on me. I know he’s supportive and all, but parents always react the way you don’t expect. I maybe don’t understand completely, Seamus, but I get it at least a little bit.”  


No one else had a similiar story. The memory of Dean’s face when the yelling had started was hurting him right then, so it was better that he didn’t talk for fear of blurting out something ridiculous. It had been so full of pain and to see that on such a beautiful face had almost made him explode on his mother, in an attempt to protect Dean.  
He began playing with the edge of his robes, something to preoccupy himself with, when Neville spoke up.  


“I think we should do something more with the D.A., you know? I mean, we’re doing what we can, but we have to do more.”  


“Half of you already managed to get another detention,” Ginny rolled her eyes in annoyance, “I’m surprised you didn’t.”  


She had directed the surprise at him. Giving a small shrug, he placed his face in his hands, rubbing gently. The giant group of students who owed detention were due to have it tomorrow, Friday. Neville was indeed one of them, so at least he could give out some warning as to how it all went down. Seamus must’ve been living proof to all of them about what went on in there. He knew he was.  


There had been significant disappointment in Amycus Carrow’s tone the previous night at dinner when it had been announced and the names had been read off. Clearly losing his most precious torture patient was something that he didn’t like -- Seamus had almost expected his name to be called anyways, but it wasn’t. Not that there was any pity on Amycus’ mind when he’d handed it all out, it was merely who he thought deserved it at the time. Seamus preferred to think that it was because he had hid behind the rest of his tall classmates.  


“‘Sppose ya got that right.” He gave a nod this time. “I know there’s a next one coming, though. He’ll have it in for me somehow, someway. Whether it’s because I stand for something that’s right or not, he’ll come after me.”  


“Let’s talk about something else now, shall we?” Luna offered in her sweetest voice, “I’d rather not think about what’s going to happen to everyone tomorrow. There will be plenty to talk about after that.”  


Sometimes, Seamus really feared Luna Lovegood.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


The following Saturday told all that was to be told. There were cuts and bruises on the students of Gryffindor’s seventh year. Neville had come in moaning the night before, and Seamus had let him be. He knew that feeling very well. It had been a rough night for all students involved.  


Any problem related to whispers was nonexistent, instead now the students took one look at an injured Gryffindor and turned their heads. Seamus was starting to fear that this meant Hogwarts was turning itself inside out. Slytherins were normal in this manner, but Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had never seemed to be so against fellow students. Even the D.A. was suffering from the tension between houses, and while they all tried to pull it together, it was evident that the students didn’t want to interact.  


Meetings were fraught with fear and danger until one day when Ginny brought the four of them together to talk about some sort of ‘master plan’ she had come up with. They weren’t a group for pranks, she was talking about schemes and plans and stuff. Things that would land them into trouble. Things that meant dealing with the problems by fighting back with not just words.  


“I think we need to plan some sort of ordeal.” She whispered in the small corner of the Room of Requirement where she’d dragged them over to. “We need a plan. We need to fight back with a...something. More than words. With what we know.”  


“The Carrows wouldn’t stand for it.” Neville sounded more worried than he looked about the idea.  


“The Carrows are the reason we’re doing this.”  


Seamus cleared his throat a little bit, “So basically we need to come up with some sort of elaborate plan to help loosen them from their thrones of power for more than a few minutes?”  


“Yes...that was...really well put, Seamus. But yes. I suggest we start our planning now. We have to show them we’re more than just standing out of a line and then suffering for it. I think I knew we’d take this route eventually, but it was too stressful at first and now that everyone’s split into every direction with the houses, we need to do something ourselves. Only the four of us.” Ginny’s eyes traveled over them each.  


Seamus snapped his fingers as an idea hit his brain, “An ambush, we need to have an ambush.”  


“A...with what?” The small amount of fear that traversed into Neville’s tone only made him smile wider.  


“You know bloody well with what, Neville. Next detention they have for someone, we run in and we set off a bunch o’ bloody fireworks and spells and they’ll never know what hit them. Next big group detention.” A smile seemed to be growing on Ginny’s face as she listened.  


“That’s perfect, Seamus.”  


“Sounds like the next group detention will be us again or something.” Seamus stared at Neville, seeing the eye roll that came with the other boy’s sentence.  


“Nah, haven’t you heard? The next group detention is gonna be Friday, Neville. It’s between a buncha first years and a few fifth years from what I heard. Apparently they’re more into murdering students with others watching. Seems I started a trend.” He gave a little wince at the idea that anything had been “started” by him that the Carrows had taken to do now.  


“If we set some things up before 6, we’ll be ready. Hide them in the walls, perhaps? What sort of … fireworks or firearms were you thinking?” Brown eyes alert, Ginny had already pulled out a paper and quill and was staring at him.  


“Just normal ones. It’s distracting enough. I could create mini explosives, but I have a feeling that first time things require us not killing anyone.”  


“Good. Neville, Luna, you meet me outside that classroom on Friday right at 4:30. I’ll talk to some of the others in here, letting them know we’ll be doing something and they need to be on the lookout for us.” No explanation as to what “looking out” meant for them was given, as Ginny was gone immediately after hissing this to them. He looked at Neville and Luna, who looked both excited and scared.  


“We want in.” A voice spoke from behind them, and they turned to see Michael Corner standing there with the others in the room; the rest seemed to have suddenly come to their senses and were willing to work together again if it meant some dangerous exploit.  


“You’ve been standing there the whole time, haven’t you?” Luna sent them one of her creepiest smiles -- all nodded. “I thought it had grown quiet.”  


“Look, it’s a risk to involve everyone in it. They’ll figure out something’s up-”  


“And that’s what we want them to do.” Seamus stared at Neville, wondering why the boy wanted it to be so secretive all of a sudden, “If we’re going to do something, we’ve got to do it big. As I told ya. It’s got to be an explosion: both metaphorical and literal of course.”  


The red-headed leader was looking around a little warily. He could see she was nervous about letting everyone participate but at the same time knew what he had said was true. Maybe picking a few people to stand out was a smart move, but they needed every bit of help they could get. This was a chance to prove themselves to any other student in Hogwarts that was scared for their lives. It was to prove that there were still some fighting back.  


“Alright.” Ginny gave in, it almost looked as if she was collapsing as she did, “But I’m going to pick a few to stay out of this. Neville was right, we can’t have everyone knowing that this is going on behind their backs. Seamus, you were right as well, but it’s like Neville said. Both of you Creevy brothers, Goldstein, Macmillan, Abbott, and Padma, stay out of this. We can’t have everyone. You will stay silent-” Seamus watched Ernie try to open his mouth against the decision, “and you will stay safe.”  


“And the rest of us?” Corner edged his way closer, even though he was already mostly standing in the front.  


“Will come with us and take part. Hopefully you won’t suffer the consequences, if we can keep incognito. At least, most of us incognito.” Her brown eyes lingered on him -- it was a risk he was going to take regardless of staying silent and safe.  


“With that, get back to your houses. You heard what we said earlier, follow that plan. If you’re not in good hearing distance, ask around. I’m sure you’ll find help where you need it.” Neville stood up fully.  


A moment of silence was quick to follow, and then everyone slowly shuffled out of the room. Seamus felt more nervous energy build up inside of him as he took his leave and headed up to the dorm to see what sort of things he could bring with him on the attack.  


The prospect of the plan had him on his toes and ready to do some shit that meant something. The rest of the evening and the next few days were going to be nerve wracking and full of sweating and muttering. But there was one thing Seamus was clinging on to so that he didn’t go insane: the fact that things were going to be far more messier around here once some fireworks were set off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably be apologizing for this being updated so late for the rest of my days, but I'll begin by saying it on here. I'm REALLY sorry! Camp NaNoWriMo has started up for this month, and I'm trying to make a dent in my writing in the first week. But I decided I needed to update, so I called forfeit on that for tonight, and have made this readable and updated.  
> So here it is. I will keep to my promise of a bi-weekly update as soon as I can.  
> Thank you to all those who have left comments/kudos in the past few weeks with the first few chapters!


	4. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's far more edited than the last one was (as the last one was a bit rushed out), but I figure it sums up to a good chapter.

There was already screaming coming from the room, it was just audible enough to hear from the corridor outside of the classroom. Swallowing hard, Seamus shut his eyes and tried to envision what he was doing this all for. Saving lives and making things right...and Dean. Once more, it was Dean.

A voice in his head had told him that Dean would approve, possibly even _laugh_ , at the idea that he was using his pyro skills for attack - the constant explosions had always been something that held the two of them together through the years - but he would be proud. Wherever Dean was now...that very thought alone made him let out a silent sigh. Dean was probably cooped up in a barn somewhere. He wasn’t caught. There was no way. Something inside of Seamus knew that all hope wasn’t lost yet, that Dean was still breathing.  


And sitting there, waiting, _thinking_ about it, gave him hope.

“Alright. We head in on the count of three. I’ve set up some of those smoke bomb products from Fred and George to block sight while we get in. If they see us or hear us...well we’d better hope we can get out before things get serious.” There was an apprehensive tone to Ginny’s voice, as if suddenly the whole prospect seemed terrifying to her.

Before anything else could be said or exchanged between them, Ginny was counting down. The door opened with the force of the explosion - courtesy of one of many fireworks - and instant blackness met them all as they scurried in. Seamus made his way over to the place he knew all the various fireworks and explosives were, and started setting them off into the chaos. A voice shouted from one end, Neville, who was instructing the students and confirming for them that this wasn’t against them.

“Move to the left and stand against the wall!” The voice purposefully didn’t sound like Neville’s, it was some sort of cover charm. Following the announcement were the sounds of students screaming and running to the wall.

Ginny had apparently put in more of the Peruvian Darkness Powder bombs than expected, and so they had more time. Or rather, so _he_ had more time. Seamus couldn’t help the smirk growing on his face as he constantly set off the explosives. The sound of Luna and the others of the group calling to the students now to come out of the room was heard over a brief silence as he moved from one stack to the next. There was more smoke than darkness now, it seemed the fireworks had created a curtain of impenetrable smog so that the Carrows were lost in it.

They weren’t lost completely: curses were flying through the thick darkness. A few even landed on some explosives which set off before he could get to them. The Carrows were shouting words of dark spells out as students ran for their lives.

Seamus had to duck a few of what were quite possibly the Killing Curse that happened to be sent his way. It seemed the Carrows had figured out where the explosives were being set off from, even if they couldn’t get to him. A few cries were heard as students were hit with some of the spells being thrown, but no real screams -- no one had died.

This was possibly the most dangerous thing he had ever attempted. They had all known it would be, but as it was an idea hatched by Seamus, it was going to be. Possibly the only thing safe about it was that a few of the D.A. were not participating.

But next time, Seamus decided as he felt the fear start building at the thought of Amycus and Alecto happening to catch him, maybe _all_ of the D.A. would be better. The thought was officially decided as he set off the last firework and bolted for the door, hearing a shout from behind as the smog started to clear. They had seen him.

None of the fear of what was to come settled in him until he was running through the corridors, aware of the stares from students as he pushed passed them. There weren’t any shouts from behind yet. But surely, they were to come?

Every student who had been in that detention had been gone from that room and were bolting back to their dorms now, as planned. The others of the D.A. might be back in their dorms or they might be in the Room of Requirement. Seamus wasn’t actually sure, that part hadn’t been clear. Ginny had made it clear that as soon as everything was done, you left.

Cursing his short legs, he became winded after a time and slowed down, realizing he’d arrived at Gryffindor Tower rather unexpectedly. Shouting the password to the Fat Lady, who only nodded as she swung open, he was met with the sight of the rest of the D.A. Gryffindors seated on the chairs and couches, some more sprawled out than others. Throwing himself onto one, he started to observe the soot covering his body, paying no mind to a few of the looks he got for being dirty.

There was indeed soot quite literally all over him. A laugh began building up in his throat, and as it built, he became less able to keep it down. It erupted out of him, starting with a giggle and becoming a full on hysterical mess. Hell was sure to come. Every minute of that had been worth it. They would be screaming for the group to come back, searching for them. But dear god, what would Dean make of him now?

Various murmurs came from the people around, most watched with fearful interest. Everyone was looking at him like he’d gone insane. Oh, he had. He lived for those explosions. Those moments of invincibility when, with everything blowing up around him, he felt alive. Alive and ready to take on whatever came.

As soon as the fit passed, he settled down into the chair, staring at the ceiling. With a mind wandering many ways and never able to stick with one topic, Seamus found sleep unattainable. The fellow students in the room clearly couldn’t sleep either: there were a lot of whispers being shared around the space. Technically, they had done what was right and had done it well. The Irishman knew that they wouldn’t find sleep, no, not that night, and possibly not for a few nights more if things went the way - they were all certain - would.

  
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Friday was the worst day to do it on, because there was now the undesirable threat of the entire weekend sprawled out in front of them all. What had to be done had to be done though, and thus it was that at three in the morning, he was awoken from an extremely light doze by rumbling from outside.

The room was shaking. Someone was trying to barge in, and they were doing very well at it. There was more shouting as the portrait hole started to swing open.

Seamus hadn’t taken off any clothes, he’d anticipated something horrible happening. He now stood in front of the opening with his wand at the ready, fear gripping his heart. Anyone else in the room who had any sense was standing beside him, wands at the ready as well.

It was with a loud bang and a crash that the portrait opened, swinging through to reveal both of the Carrows, and Snape. The rest of the D.A. who weren’t in Gryffindor that had ended up in their clutches were standing behind the adults, fear etched on their faces. Every student in the common room let out a small gasp as they were stared down by the teachers. Snape’s cold eyes trailed over everyone. Seamus felt their piercing gaze as they landed on _him_ in particular. Amycus was letting out one of his infamous cackles -- his sister was nearby, standing there with the familiar evil grin on her face.

“I do believe you should all be in bed right now, if I’m not mistaken?” There were shivers from many of the people standing there at the very tone of Snape’s cold voice. “It’s a good thing one of your little friends here didn’t disappear into the blue, or we would’ve never found you.”

A first year, Hufflepuff, was held up by Amycus. With his bright brown eyes and smooth, dark skin, the kid looked a little like Dean at that age. Seamus felt a small twinge of despair at that thought. All the blame he had been prepared to give to the one who had given them away was suddenly gone, erased from existence. It had only been replaced with longing.

“Little Daniel here ended up in the wrong corridor,” Alecto motioned toward the first year, “Filch caught him in an instant. Nice of him to be patrolling the grounds at this time of night, isn’t it?”

Daniel made a small noise, but that was quickly silenced by Amycus’ hand over his mouth. A few people gave a start as if they were going to move forward - and stopped.

“Sir, we need to take these vagabonds and do what we please with them, right?” Alecto took a few steps forward, yet never standing in front of the Headmaster, eyes lingering on Seamus like her brother’s were.

“Oh, yes,” there was a moment of pause in which the sounds of the stiffening bodies all around were practically heard, “sort them into however many you can deal with at once.”

“Sort yourselves: boys over here with me, girls over there.” Seamus moved slowly to Amycus with the other boys, never ceasing to stop glaring at the man.

“Are you sure you don’t want to deal with this in the morning, Amycus?” Snape asked coolly, eyes trained on Ginny the entire time.

“I’d like them under careful watch for the rest of the night.”

The group processed out of that corridor and into the next, all the while Amycus was going on about how he was delighted he was finally getting to punish them all at once. They arrived at the Muggle Studies classroom - they had attacked the Dark Arts classroom, not this one - and after being pushed into a chair, Seamus spared a quick glance around at the others.

Neville looked resigned to his fate. Ginny was staring straight ahead with an odd sort of determination. Luna was the calmest of them all, although she did give him a worried look as he glanced at her. Michael Corner looked absolutely petrified; in fact, most of the others did.

“I think it is safe to say that you have all caused one of the greatest disruptions I have ever known in a detention, or a classroom.” Snape was talking, that was new, “and I would say you had to be punished immediately. But I think it is wiser if we punish you on the weekend rather than now. Is Saturday a nice date for you two?”

“Of course, Headmaster.” Amycus said this in the most flattering tone Seamus had ever heard out of him -- and then it hit him. Amycus Carrow practically worshiped the ground Snape walked on, he was in awe with Severus Snape because of Snape’s probably high status with the Death Eaters. Of course he would let the detention be pushed back. Alecto was nodding enthusiastically as well.

Every nerve in Seamus’ body screamed in fear. This was going to be worse, and he wanted to let the others know that it was his fault. He should take the blame.

Sadly, a 3 A.M. in the morning warning to your friends that you’ll take every blow isn’t exactly a smart move, so he didn’t do it. Not yet. That was the following day’s business. Right now, Seamus was going to try and get a grip on society and his life, which was about to shatter to pieces once more.

  
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“Get up again, you filthy Mudblood-lover! I said, stand up!” A lash landed on the already bright red and painful skin on his back; the whip was raised immediately again. Alecto was shrieking at the top of her voice. “You are meant to stand when talking to your teachers!”

Silly rules were always something Alecto liked to make up for the sake of torturing students. He’d heard rumors of her saying something along the lines of “teachers deserve more than just your respect” once, and the scary thing was, it was probably more true than any other rumor. The whip was slowly being covered in the brightness of blood. Each time it opened the back of his shirt more and more; he’d been forced out of his robes early on.

The screams erupting from the muscles that spasmed in his throat tore every thought from his brain. This was a new type of screaming. Echoing within it was some new form of pain to him.

Whips weren’t commonly used for torture these days, since wizards seemed to find the Cruciatus Curse was more useful. There were still some that held the tradition of the whip as they thought it should be, though, and it appeared that the Carrows were a part of this small remaining group of people.

Articulating words wasn’t exactly something Alecto liked to do either. Her shrieks of delight were mostly screams of non-sensical things. Each time the whip hit, Seamus felt his body sink further into the floor. She always seemed to expect an answer from you, even when you clearly weren’t able to get a word in otherwise or a word out of your gasping lungs. Air was a very precious thing to him, he’d decided, after the first few kicks to the ribs from Amycus; the squat man was standing off to the side with no doubt a smug smile on his face.

Every student so far had been put through this. Maybe not quite this badly, but since Seamus had created quite a habit of pissing the Carrows off; he wasn’t surprised at their newfound attempts to outright murder him.

The whip was a new thing - for everyone - though.

“At least turn yourself so you face me!” A quick shove and he was lying on his bloody back now, which was stinging like all hell.

Long and graceful, the black-red whip fell onto his chest. Tremors ripped through every nerve. A scream was not a good word for what came from him: it was a cry, a plea, full of anguish and agony in every moment. There was cackling from Alecto as the action was completed several times over the course of the following fifteen minutes.  
Breathing became more complicated. It should have been ridiculous to think that breathing had ever been taken for granted, but it had, and now Seamus was realizing that maybe breathing shouldn’t be thought of so carelessly.

Gasping and almost sobbing, he dragged his aching body forward, in an attempt to stand up. Another cackle echoed around the tiny chamber. Amycus was getting a good laugh out of this one, watching him crawl like vermin across the floor. Hope had all but evaded Seamus.

Getting out of here was going to be difficult. Everyone else was already getting treated or in their dorms treating themselves depending on who they were. Not a single soul would help such a horrible sight as him try and get anywhere, especially not at 6 at night, during dinner.

“Going somewhere?” A familiar pair of heavy black boots stood in front of the door.

“Y-ya…”

“Oh we got you good, Finnigan. We got you good, fag.” Spit was emitted from the horrible mouth that said the last word like it was some sort of disease. “Why don’t you tell us about your...secret little friend? I think it would do you some good...some therapy, maybe.”

Alecto gave a snort, “Oh, he doesn’t like talking about his emotions, you know that, Amy. His _boyfriend_ isn’t going to meet us for a long time; but when he does…”

Horrifying images swept across his mind. Dean, lying on the ground, tortured, spread out, staring into the sky with no sign of life on his face. The tall black man falling to the ground under the Cruciatus Curse. Amycus Carrow coming toward Dean with a look of absolute murder on his face, but Dean was shielding Seamus’ body, and Seamus had the thought of “No-” before it was over.

They would _never_ touch Dean Thomas.

With a cry of rage, he dragged his body upward and threw Amycus against the wall. The Death Eater looked absolutely astounded.

“He does have fight in him, Al.” It was the first time Amycus had ever sounded completely shocked.

“Only for the sake of his patheticness and his boyfriend, Amy…” Alecto let out a soft purr.

With another burst of movement trying to force the man further into the wall, he held Amycus’ gaze with his own. There was not going to be any wrong thing said about Dean, not while he was around. Other reasons crowded into his brain in the moment, reasons past Dean that he might be doing this -- no, right now, Dean was the focus.

“You d-don’t say anythin’ about Dean, n-not in front o-of me. Ever.” Words were harder when you were wheezing and trying to force a full-grown man into the wall as your muscles failed you.

“At least he’s honest, Amy,” Alecto said from her position on the opposite end of the small room, “I mean, he’s wrong of course. But he admits to having a boyfriend, even if that is dirty, and wrong, and makes him a fag.”

Before anything else to avenge his loved one could be done, something hit him in the stomach, something sharp. Needle-pricks were sent all along his chest, nerves suddenly shouting out against the pain.

He stared at Amycus who stood with his arm still bent out in front of him in the position it had gone into to attack. The sudden current of blood and pain weakened his knees once more so he was staring at the floor again, with his bleeding stomach and new wound soaking the floor.

A knife. That was a new attack. The blade was still in him, it was still trying to kill him, he was going to die of blood loss _from a knife_. Amycus let out a sigh as he pulled the knife roughly out of Seamus’ gut, where it must have punctured at least twenty things on its exit path.

“Such a shame, really. I hadn’t intended to have Irish blood on it.”

“Get him out.” Alecto hissed.

The cold hard floor hit everything like _hell_ as they threw his newly broken body out of the room. His shirt was torn to pieces and covered in blood, he also seemed to have picked up the habit of moaning lightly every few seconds. Every inch of pain was making his back arch against the floor -- in an act of rebellion he tried to claw at the floor as if it was the reason for his suffering.

Someone gave a loud scream -- the halls were evidently busy. Footsteps on the brick were heard, but things were growing fainter all around him. If death had been avoided last time, now it was really time to die. Blood loss had never come up as an option in his mind, usually he imagined the Killing Curse would be the way to go. It was preferably less painful. Or in his sleep.

Pain darkened his vision and he couldn’t see much at all through the haze. People were coming now. Dinner had just been let out; the room had been near the Great Hall. Several gasps were heard as some rounded the corner, probably Hufflepuff students as that was the dorm that this corridor led to.

Seamus gave a loud groan as something tried to lift him, finding the shirt of the person and desperately clinging to it, he gave another groan as they managed to pick him up. It was someone a lot taller and stronger. Maybe...Dean? The faint whisper of the forsaken name was only heard by the person carrying him. They said nothing to it.

There must have been a _lot_ of blood again. Blood was starting to become his greatest fear and his worst enemy.

  
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“Oh...Seamus…” He stumbled forward a bit, giving a look at Ginny. Her eyes were wide.

“It’s nothing.” Giving a small wheeze, he collapsed into the chair.

Days of being in the hospital wing had not prepared him for the return. It was December now. No one should still be worried about him -- everyone should have been on the topic of Christmas, since it wasn’t too far away.

Yet everyone was pointing and staring again, but this time less were with cruel looks and instead replaced with sympathetic smiles. Some even came up to have a short conversation. That had just been his first time back out in the halls. He couldn’t believe he was the worst off of them all.

Ginny looked pretty bad, as did Neville. He hadn’t seen Luna yet, but from what they’d said, it had been something along the lines of Neville’s beating for her. That meant that at least she was still alive.

After a week once more - and a few days give or take - in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey had almost been reluctant to let her patient go. Sure, maybe not everything was completely healed. But something told Seamus that not everything would ever be healed.

The wound in his stomach was slowly recovering, it was worse than any of the whip marks that were soon to become scars. It was deep, as Madame Pomfrey had said, it would take a few days to completely clear up. Every medication in the hospital wing must have been used on him though, because he had felt completely drugged for days on end.

“It’s not nothing, you’re...almost dead again, Seamus.” She looked pretty cautious of her own body as well: she was carrying herself painfully upright. “I don’t get how you manage to get them all fired up.”

Giving a small shrug, he stood up again, preparing for the walk up to the dorm, “I say what I wan’ them not to hear. Ought’ta give it a try sometime.”

An indignant huff was all he heard from behind him. From what he’d heard from Ron for years on end, Ginny was apparently growing to be a lot like her own mother.

  
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The darkness of an unknown abyss opened before his trembling body. A shout of rage was heard from the other side of the opening. Dread crept up the small of his back as he looked down into it -- and then he was falling. Falling through the air, into the pit, into the darkness where people screamed his name and someone who was angry at him was shouting at the top of their lungs. Calling him all sorts of horrible names, taking jabs at him by telling him how worthless this all was, that his lover was already dead, that _he_ was better off dead.

A feeling of depression had settled into his mind, he was flailing about; but it wouldn’t last long. There was no fight in giving up and giving in. Simply floating and listening to the comments that were true, of course, about himself, about his desires, wasn’t so bad. Someone else started calling to him over the hideous streams of words from the unknown, enraged being, someone much more concerned sounding calling his name. Giving a moan he tried to reach out to them but met with nothing but black air. The voice was coming from above him now-

“SEAMUS!” With a hard shove, he was quite literally jolted awake. Neville stood above him, pure distress on his beaten face.

“Wh…”

“You were flailing...and screaming...and I think you might’ve torn a few of the cuts on your chest and back again…” Neville’s brown eyes flitted to his uncovered chest, and Seamus looked down at the new blood that covered it. “I thought I might need to wake you up. What happened to your bandages, Seamus?”

Giving a sigh of resignation, he looked back up at the ceiling, “I took them off. Too itchy, Neville. Not gonna deal with that now, ‘m I?” A smirk wasn’t working on Neville.

“You have to leave them on.”

“What time ‘s it?”

“About 7.”

There was a shot of pain as he sat up, and he grimaced, which didn’t go unnoticed. Throwing the covers back, Seamus stood up, gingerly making his way over to the dresser where a roll of bandages sat. In a moment’s notice, Neville had come up to him and was applying the roll himself, wrapping it around and around until it was covering the entirety of Seamus’ chest again. A small amount of relief could be gained from tightening it and stopping blood flow. It was a bit like being a mummy.

“Suppose you should get dressed.”

“Perhaps.” He moved to his clothing, ignoring Neville following him at a small distance.

“There’s a D.A. meeting tonight. I expect you’ll want to come,” his roommate sounded a bit resigned, “everyone’s wondering if we’ll be able to drag ourselves to the room or not. You especially.”

“I got the worst, I get it, Nev. You don’t need to rub it in any longer. People have been staring at me while I stumble and fall and then have to pull myself upright again despite the pain to get myself standin’ again all week long. They don’t do a single thing to help, only stand there and watch. The Carrows have already both mentioned me situation ‘least twice in the past few days. You act like it’s surprising, when really, you know that it’s not. Anyone like me is gonna get this treatment, Neville.” The sudden anger in his stomach was alarming, but it felt oddly good. “I don’t know why I thought any of this “hope” would be a good idea, but I did. We gotta have hope, Neville. I put all of mine into me explosions. And the silly notion that maybe things will be alright one day. I know you have the same feelings; yet _look where it got me_.”

Still steaming, he left the room and a speechless Neville Longbottom behind him. It was tough work getting down the stairs still, but he did it, and in his best time in the past days. People were gathered in a few seats down in the common room. Not a single one glanced at him. Relief, which was short lived, flooded into his mind: they always stared. Some people even stood up, as if they thought they might help, and immediately sit down. Or a few would whisper and point. After a week of this, it seemed most of the students had gotten bored with the whispering and the pointing and were reduced to the staring.

Tears built in his throat, the type where if he had been talking, they would have had to be forced back down. A few managed to squeeze past his notice and into his eyes. These escapees were quickly wiped away.

The Great Hall seemed menacing, but he went in regardless. For the first time in a while, the sun was shining; but the hall itself felt cold. It was a completely different place now. It was getting to a point where it was almost as unrecognizable as Seamus was to himself in the mirror.

People didn’t talk anymore. The quiet conversations a few had ever dared to have were dead, gone forever. If a single person dared to turn their head in their neighbor’s direction, Alecto would let out a little throat clearing or Amycus would raise his head from his plate. Even Snape would go stiff, and then it would stop. Morning conversations were not a need for life, as the Carrows had made sure of. The others of the staff went along with it to save their students’ skins, but they didn’t like it anymore than any of these kids did.

The changes had happened so slowly. Seamus feared what the holidays would be like, since he definitely wasn’t going home. How much else could Hogwarts drag down into its immense fear that was growing like the bottomless pit in his dream?

  
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“It’s been a little while since our last meeting, I know,” Luna was saying from the front of the room, sitting on a pile of books, wide eyes staring at them all, “but I was hoping we would all get to talk a little bit when we did.”

Awkward moments followed. A few kids played with their robes or their feet. Seamus kept his face forward, not wanting to make eye contact with a single person there. Some were beaten-up themselves and were also avoiding eye contact with any who hadn’t been.

The trouble was that not everyone had been caught, so there were quite a few who were feeling absolutely horrible about it. Now the guilt and the anger and the pain had joined into one room, and it was creating a tornado of terror.

“So...would anyone like to say anything?” The blonde girl looked around expectantly.

“That kid did not deserve to be caught. I hope none of you are blaming him. If you are, you should feel ashamed of yourself.” Neville spoke up, his face turning toward everyone. Seamus caught the other boy shooting a grateful look towards Luna -- and also caught the small, hesitant smile she sent Neville in return.

Taking the opportunity of _that_ tender moment, he jumped into the conversation for a brief word at least.

Seamus gave a nod, “First years are not going to be blamed, ever. Ya got that?”

Some people sent him a knowing look while everyone gave a nod. Indeed, perhaps they had all figured out that he had seen something akin to Dean in Daniel. It didn’t surprise him at all. What he said was a truth that most of them held anyways.

First years didn’t know any better a lot of the time, and it had been a complete accident that the kid had gotten caught. The topic was left there, not picked up again at all. In fact, a silence full of more shuffling around was held for a good five minutes before someone else dared to speak up.

“I’m sorry.” Lavender Brown met all of their eyes with her own. She, as far as he knew, had not been caught, though part of the endeavor. “I’m sorry I wasn’t caught with you guys. I shouldn’t have left you out there. I should have been there.”

“So am I.” Goldstein had stood up, “I shouldn’t have let any of you do that. We shouldn’t have. Or at least, we should have taken some responsibility.”

“You wouldn’t have stopped us.” The look on Michael Corner’s face was one of utter disbelief - and he had been one of the lucky students to have gotten only a fair amount of beating - and confusion, “We were going to do this and we did.”

“But-but Seamus almost died,” Lavender stuttered, “and it’s not as if Neville got much better. We should have been stopped, Anthony’s right.”

Some students looked like they agreed with Lavender and Anthony, but the other few were still looking around as if they didn’t know what to make of it.  
Seamus didn’t, he didn’t want to be dragged into this by some other student. If anyone was going to make him a part of this discussion, it would be himself. Standing up - and almost falling back down as his knife wound throbbed painfully, which did not go unnoticed - he cleared his throat a little bit, staring at all of them.

“It was me idea.” Ginny looked like she was about to disagree, or murder him, or maybe both. “‘M the one to blame. I led you all to this. But before you get to telling me that this shouldn’t have been done, listen. We gotta stop these tortures somehow. Attacking while they are happening is our best bet. Ya don’t know what is going to happen, but once you’ve done it, it feels really good. I sat on a bed and laughed for a good five minutes once we got back here. The students with detention need someone to protect ‘em.”

“You cackled like a madman for almost ten minutes straight, Seamus. I don’t believe that qualifies as ‘feeling good’. You sounded absolutely mad.” Parvati’s eyes betrayed her words, he could tell she had felt good about it after doing the procedure too.

“Madness comes with this, I ‘ppose.” He didn’t clarify what “this” was but for some reason, he had the feeling everyone knew. At this point, it wasn’t worth caring about. He gave a small flinch as the knife wound acted up again, and abruptly sat down, giving as faint of a groan as he could manage. They watched in that horrid pity of theirs until he was back to normal in a seated position.

Not one person stood up after that. Maybe most of them were realizing what he’d said was pretty much true. Or maybe they still thought he was insane. A hum went across the room as everyone breathed out at once, frustrations going out with it. Neville took to the front and began talking about something or other, how they’d have one more meeting before the holidays and how he hoped everyone stayed moderately safe. Seamus, meanwhile, was reflecting on what the word “safe” meant to him at this point, if it meant anything at all.

  
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Death was starting to take on a whole new meaning. As soon as the D.A. had made up and most were feeling okay about having meetings and such for coming days, before the holidays started, they were more attentive to the program Potterwatch. Everyone always wanted to listen to it.

For some reason it offered some new hope, that there were still rebels out there like themselves. It might as well have been a sign from the adults that they weren’t alone. Seamus liked to think of it that way as much as all of them did. No adult would even begin to grasp at what _they_ had all been through, but the teenagers were able to grasp at what the adults were going through.

Fred Weasley was the other student they had all recognized within the second time of listening in. At first it had been a debate between whether it was him or George, but Ginny had clarified that it was Fred and everyone had been put at ease. He was using the code name “Rapier”, while Lee Jordan stuck with “River”. Another man, “Royal”, had been identified as Kingsley Shacklebolt; by Ginny as well.

They were now seated around the Room of Requirement once more, having only just finished up the last meeting before Christmas. Seamus had slung his body over a couch -- it was still in immense pain and the knife wound was constantly threatening to be opened up again. With even the slightest bit of movement, he would feel it cry out. Madame Pomfrey said that was the feeling of it “healing”; if that was what healing felt like, he’d rather be in constant pain and never heal.

“Welcome one and all to our Friday edition of Potterwatch. This is your correspondent, chief, and main entertainer, River,” Lee’s voice rolled over the radio that sat in the middle of the room, “I will first address our missing members of the Wizarding Community of the past two weeks.”

Feeling everything tense up in his body once more, as it had last time and the time before that when the list began, Seamus turned his head more toward the center. He wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to hear every name.

At the same time, every nerve in his body begged him to listen closely. A few people were watching him as they had every time. Most people were apparently scared of what would happen to him if the name that was most feared came on in the list. Seamus, the first time he’d heard that they were concerned, tried to feel angry, but mostly he was scared about himself.

Because he wasn’t sure _what_ he’d do if that name was listed.

But it wasn’t spoken yet again, and they were safe for at least a little while longer.

“We hope that the friends and families of these people are safe and careful, and give them our condolences.” River finished out. “Now to turn to our pal, Royal, on the field. What news have you got about the Muggle world and our darling Ministry, Royal?”

“It appears that the Prime Minister of England is aware of the death toll,” the daily Muggle report began, and Seamus allowed himself to tune it out.

The rest of the report went by quickly, and then it was time for Romulus’s segment, who was their old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin. Seamus had always thought that Lupin was the best teacher they’d ever had for the subject, and most of his fellow seventh years appeared to as well, with the way they straightened up and really listened when he came on. Something about Remus Lupin was rather endearing, it was hard not to listen to him anyways.

“I have brought some interesting information that has been retrieved from that old castle, Hogwarts itself.” A prickle went up his spine as Lupin spoke, and he looked over to see everyone was staring at everyone. “For our “Pals of Potter” talk today, I thought it might interest you lot to hear about some of his old classmates.”

“We did make some jokes in the past about Hogwarts and the lovely new snake that is keeping watch over the school, so before Romulus continues, I’d like to say that those were merely jokes and what we have today is something different. Continue, Romulus.” River’s voice cut in. Seamus turned to look at the three leaders, and noticed instantly that Ginny was sitting completely straight and didn’t look as scared as everyone else. She’d done something.

“As I was saying, his fellow students sent in some things a week ago. I will not name them exactly, but one “Morgan” sent them in,” every eye was now watching Ginny, as it was commonly known that her Patronus was in fact, a horse, and a Morgan horse, to be exact, “and what is about to be disclosed is something rather unheard of.

‘It appears that there is a society in Hogwarts that has been formed out of students who dare to take a stand. They call themselves the “D.A.”, and have currently been trying to help all of the students there in Hogwarts out. It appears that there are worse things happening in Hogwarts than expected-”

Someone let out a “Bloody hell!”, causing nearly everyone to jump. Seamus looked around to see Ernie Macmillan standing up, staring at Ginny. Romulus was saying something about “this must be kept secret” or something of the sort as Ginny stood up to face Ernie.

“I did it because they needed to know that someone here is standing with Harry still.” She had beaten Macmillan to the words, the boy was staring at her with his mouth still open. “Now I’d like to hear what they managed to put in there. I didn’t include everything. I’ve told them the basics.”

“They would like everyone out there to know that they are fighting within the walls of Hogwarts. Or rather, their confinement. I did not receive anything other than this, but it is with a hopeful eye that we turn to our youth. They are fighting for those who could not themselves, and they are fighting with Potter.” Shivers ran down his spine, Ginny had taken some of what he’d said himself. Put it into different words, but it was still the same words. “Those who could not themselves” translated directly in his mind to “those running away-Dean”. He shot Ginny an appreciative glance.

“That ends our ‘Pals of Potter’ segment for tonight. Thank you very much, Romulus, for those wise words from some fellow rebels. Remember folks, you could be doing so much more if you stood up for what’s right.” Even Lee sounded sincere.

Any other part was instantly ignored as whispers were being spread through the room. They consisted mostly of disbelief, someone had done that for them, Ginny had dared to do that and write to these people. She had taken a step most of them were pretty sure was dangerous. Seamus was more grateful than any of them, he was sure of that. As dangerous as it had been...it was all worth it.

Even when the radio had shut itself off due to the loud din that was happening amongst the students, and even when Ginny stood up and explained herself, even when everyone agreed that it was incognito enough and started leaving. Even when he left himself, shaking Ginny’s hand, watching the rekindled fire in her eyes as she nodded while he thanked her, Seamus could not shake off the feeling of regret that he hadn’t taken that action himself.

  
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Christmas morning was as bleary a morning as there had been in ages. Sitting up in the bed, Seamus gave a grunt as something in his back popped. It was still the holidays. Hell, it was only just Christmas.

The snow was emphasizing that fact very well: piled high on the windows and on the grounds of the school where few were still roaming. Many students had gone home for the weeks off, even though the Carrows had been clear that going home meant not telling anything of what was going on here. Everything was secret, if you told someone else about the goings-ons at Hogwarts, the Carrows would probably murder you. Without friends around, Seamus had nearly died of boredom for the past few days.

Neville was gone home as well, his empty bed told all.

The firewhiskey bottles next to the bed on which he was sitting startled him for a moment, before Seamus remembered. Remembered it all. The way he’d taken them from the kitchens as the house elves quietly bustled around and handed him a few bottles, which he’d soon drunk all of. As if the memories weren’t enough, the pounding headache was taking away all cognitive thought from his mind. Nicely hungover, he was. And probably a sight to see, judging from the way his eyes weren’t really willing to open.

Getting full-on drunk on Christmas Eve was the worst idea ever, but it had felt so good. Every emotion resembling pain had been gone for a short time, and a few had been poured out not with the whiskey but on paper-oh! The paper and quill still sat on the side table. It looked like the ink had been knocked over as it was covering most of the floor now.

With a sigh, he uttered a cleaning charm and set the bottle back upright, the movements painful to his drunken nerves and headache. Taking up the piece of paper, he had to stare at it for a few moments before the writing took on any form of letters. The whole thing was a mess. Words ran across it. As his mind slowly adjusted, he took them in, with a growing horror and sadness.

_Love…._

_It takes away the PAIN it’s still there it’s not leaving help me_

_just what i wanted_

The words echoed around the already jarred thoughts he was having. Most of it was horribly written and not at all legible. What was read of misery. Everything had been put into that damn piece of paper. Crumpling it up and throwing it away was the best idea. There wasn’t anything to do with it after that.

Not a single present lay by his bedside like it always had. No one had thought of him. His own mother, turned against him so much that she didn’t care what he did with his holidays. It didn’t succeed in making any sort of empty feeling go away; but it didn’t make it worse.

Seamus wondered what was going to become of him, rotting away in the school, beaten and torn to the point of death. Bored out of his mind as well, and all because of one stupid thing called ‘love’. If love was so wonderful, then why did it hurt? Seamus had hurt so much ever since his love had been fully formed, and it seemed like it wasn’t going to stop.

After a sigh and a glance around, he pulled himself off the bed, changed, and left. The few people that were in the common room didn’t even glance at him as he walked slowly by. Pushing open the portrait and climbing through the hole, the feeling of dreariness returned. The whole school seemed to be mourning its own self.

Festivities of the holiday were banned by the Carrows. There was a new rule in place about not listening to the radio -- all radios were supposed to be turned into them and then probably destroyed. Seamus wasn’t excited about the day he had to break that one to the D.A., even though he had made sure the radio they owned was safely in the Room of Requirement. Any sort of decor was nonexistent, the Great Hall didn’t have Christmas trees or any sort of silver lining any of its walls.

People sat in their small clumps, eating slowly, talking very quietly. For the first time in a while, students were allowed to talk during breakfast. Snape had told them that it was because there was less noise with less people. Everything was still to be done at a low volume.

Some of the teachers looked disgruntled by the unusual silence during Christmas morning, not that anyone could blame them. Professor McGonagall looked about ready to murder Snape or the Carrows right then and there. That was probably something to do with the fact that it had never been this way, not in recent history or memory, and McGonagall was a bit of a stickler for traditions sometimes.

Without friends or presents to entertain himself with, - Ginny and Luna had also gone home - there wasn’t an actual holiday. Seamus moped around the dorm room, arguing with himself about the cost of getting more firewhiskey from the elves, but knowing the headache wasn’t worth it. And Dean wouldn’t want him to be drinking. If Dean were here, things would be a lot different. Things would be severely different. Seamus ached for that difference, he ached for Dean, all day long and into the night. It wasn’t even surprising when even his dreams that night were spent screaming for Dean into a long darkness that threatened to crush him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I hope it hasn't been too ridiculously long... this one was a little different, now wasn't it? The sappy stuff toward the end was a little painful to read over again, I hadn't realized how sappy it was at first, but that's okay, it makes the feels a little more exciting, right?! Hope you enjoyed it, it's only growing from here.  
> Thanks for all kudos and comments previously left!


	5. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit that the first time I wrote this in the very first "draft", I thought Ginny was leaving at the same time Luna did. If anything seems off due to that fact, although I've edited it enough that I don't think it will be a problem, I apologize. It was a bit of a mistake.

  
“She’s gone,” Neville shoved a book underneath his bed, voice frantic, “she’s gone, Seamus.”  
  
A sinking feeling entered his brain at the thought of who Neville could possibly be talking about. With a growing amount of worry, he dug into the matter further.  
  
“Start with who _specifically_ is gone, Neville.”  
  
“Luna. She didn’t return after the holidays. There wasn’t even a report in the last Potterwatch.”  
  
Neville moved around the room with non-suppressed urgency for the next few minutes, muttering to himself at times and ignoring any attempt of starting a conversation that Seamus tried to perform. There were plenty of reasons as to why Neville could possibly be worried; but Seamus had narrowed it down to the same problem he himself was suffering from currently. Luna had been only the nicest to Neville - out of them all probably - and there was no doubt in his mind that maybe they had been working on more than plans when they would get together in the evenings. Perhaps there wasn’t much but a smooth friendship, yet Neville clearly cared about her far more than simply as a friend. Seamus knew the feeling extremely well.  
  
“Is this a Firewhiskey bottle, Seamus?” The trash can had been found. It was a stupid way to get rid of things, really, but it had worked as he’d completely forgotten about it. “Seamus? Answer me. What were you doing with Firewhiskey?” Neville really would be a good sargeant general if he ever got the chance.  
  
He weakly attempted to make something out of it, “It was...I mean...Christmas Eve. I was lonely, Neville. Ya can’t blame me. I was lost and ’m still lost and ’m angry and ’m sort of a sappy bastard right now, plus the damn knife wound only started to feel better yesterday. SoI...drank.”  
  
“Great! Now we’ve got to have an intervention.” It almost sounded like a joke.  
  
“It was one night, Nev. Not too serious, if ya ask me,” hopping from the bed, he came over to where the other knelt by the can, “and if you also ask me, I can tell ya that this whole damned thing is messed up an’ nothing solves problems like booze.”  
  
The whole drinking evening had of course come into play as it was destined to from the start. One evening and people would be all in a worry over someone’s mental state. Not that his mental state was very good - he chuckled to himself at this - but it was not a complete wreck yet.  
  
Once Neville stood up and gave a nod, he stood up as well and moved back onto his bed, touching the journal that lay there. He hadn’t written in it for a little while. A few times in early and mid-December, but not in 1998 yet. Maybe, seeing as it was a new year, writing wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Pulling a quill off of the bedside table and setting the ink bottle on top of said table, he began to set to work.  
  
_3:45 PM January 2nd, Friday, 1998_  
  
_The thing about drinking is that it really does put one’s mind off of all of the horrible things in their life. Maybe it’s bad for you at such an amount and maybe you do regret it once you’re hungover, but the few times I’ve actually gotten drunk, it’s been a total remedy for the mind._  
  
_The first time was sometime back in fifth year during that whole “rebellious streak” I had against Harry for so long there. I never told anyone about it, but one night I snuck off to the top of the Astronomy tower because no one does any sort of damn thing up there, and became so drunk I’m not sure how I got back to Gryffindor Tower. I was drowning in my immense grief over having basically been turned into the Gryffindor pariah as well as being treated nearly ignored by Dean...not that he ever truly wanted to do so, we just had our moments._  
  
_Then there was the time last year, when he was with Ginny...seems really cliche now that I look back on it but it’s the truth. I drank to oblivion outside in the courtyard that night, snuck down with the bottles and sat there stargazing as I poured the whiskey down my throat. I was really desperate then. Yet everything was gone by the time the last bottle was gone, and I felt a bit like I was on a cloud…_  
  
_Now it was this past Christmas Eve. Makes me feel a bit bad, considering. But I was so lonely and he wasn’t there, so what is a guy supposed to do? I was desperate, basically. Had such a hangover the next day, it felt like death. On Christmas. Everything left that night though. I wish that feeling would be there constantly, that would mean drinking constantly of course, which wouldn’t be a terribly smart idea. Imagine Dean coming back and finding me a drunkard? Or dead...or him never coming back…_  
  
_God knows what this next term’s going to be like. I don’t know how we’re meant to survive to the end of the year, and I keep saying that in the hopes that maybe someone will take pity on us and save us or something, I guess. No one’s going to; but it’s nice to think about._  
  
_Luna didn’t return. There’s no knowledge about her floating around in the air, I’m guessing, seeing as Neville’s a bit devastated. I understand. I guess maybe a bit more than I should. Considering. Yet I do understand a lot. It’s emotionally draining, it is. You don’t know anything about them...where they might be...if they’re still running...or if they stopped breathing a while ago...and then it gets really depressing. Wouldn’t be surprised if I need one of them Muggle therapists my da was always talking about. Not that my parents would pay any attention to my needs after this. They don’t love me anymore, it’s sort of clear. And it’s like they think I care, which I don’t really...sort of._  
  
_Dean …. Dean if I could only see you right now...you’d know what to do. I’m so sappy and soppy and shit like that nowadays because I miss you so much. If he ever saw this, I think he’d understand. A lot._  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Start of the term regulations were suddenly put into effect: it felt as though before, the Carrows hadn’t been able to apply rules because of Snape, but now things had suddenly grown far stricter as they’d weaseled into everyone’s lives. What had seemed to be only a small problem when they’d arrived was apparently a bigger problem than they thought, or so it was to the Carrows, apparently.  
  
Now any organization was forbidden entirely. Not that Quidditch had been played or any clubs aside from the D.A. had been continued into this year, but it was a show of their true colors. A student couldn’t even consider asking a teacher for permission to meet up with a large group of fellow peers anymore. This wasn’t going to stop the D.A., but that first day, Seamus began to wonder if it would.  
  
Other things were put into place that were more ridiculous than the last. A curfew for an even earlier time was put up, except it excused any student that was busy with “other activities”; namely, detention. Detention could be earned almost any number of ways now, starting with the idea that any student who spoke out of turn would get a warning and then be submitted to the list of detentions for that week.  
  
Mail was almost completely unavailable anymore. Seamus felt nothing toward this rule in particular. No one was sending him anything anymore, why should he be concerned with something so silly? Neville appeared a bit more distressed, considering he got his daily news from his Gran.  
  
The long list of new rules was situated right outside the Great Hall’s entranceway, so here they all were at the usual breakfast time, standing and staring at it with growing eyes and expressions of disbelief. The paper was new, it hadn’t been there before: Seamus knew it had only just been put into place that morning.  
  
Filch was watching off to the side, his face split in a toothy old grin that really made one shiver. He enjoyed these things, everyone knew. Admittedly, he didn’t like the Carrows - Seamus had spotted the angry look on the old man’s face when they’d told him off for something - but he did like rules.  
  
“At least someone’s happy.” Parvati stared at him like he’d gone insane at that comment -- and maybe he had finally cracked, Seamus wasn’t sure. It was a little stupid humor, but that was all the humor they got anymore.  
  
Not only was Filch happy, it turned out the Carrows were very happy as well. They strutted down the aisles of the Great Hall that morning like it was finally Christmas for them. Snape looked coldly out on everyone with his usual amount of non-existent emotion, but he clearly had something to do with this.  
  
“It’s like hell on earth or something, you know?” Neville whispered it to him during breakfast. “All these rules and there’s no one to tell them to stop...it’s almost worst than Umbridge.”  
  
He gave a shiver, “‘m thinking it is worse than Umbridge, mate. Look at these people. They’re scared for their lives.”  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Terror was in fact etched onto all of the student’s faces now and probably to the end of time. with the way things were looking. Alecto was very pleased and smug when she addressed them that morning.  
  
“Hello and welcome back, students,” she giggled, “I hope you all had a great break. Since it is the start of term, I’m starting you on a new topic. We’re going to address how Muggles are ruining the earth on which we stand on. I do believe you may know of a few of the reasons they are destroying it, but I’m going to start with the basics.”  
  
It was in that moment that Seamus Finnigan decided he was going to make this class hell for Alecto Carrow if it took him the whole of this month and into the next.  
  
“The pollution, which is a big word, I know for many of you, is the biggest reason. You may have seen a car or any sort of automobile. The slimy form of magic used in these things are like no other-yes?” Her eyes narrowed at the sight of his hand in the air.  
  
Taking in a breath and ignoring the looks from everyone in the room, he stared her down. “Ma’am, are you aware that your magic is more…destructive, than their “magic”? If you aren’t, I can assure you that it is, in fact, the case. An’ don’t you think they steal magic? They don’t have magic, you taught us that the first day.”  
  
He was met with the usual amount of stunned silence. It wasn’t much of an insult, but it was all he had. Her eyes had nearly disappeared in the folds of her eyelids before she spoke again.  
  
“Finnigan…” there was a stiffness in her movements, “it is good to know that you of all people remembered what I taught you the first day. It is also good to know that you are looking for more trouble. Now sit there and be silent, or I will add your name to the List.”  
  
“Do ya really think ‘m going to be quiet for ya?” Maybe it didn’t help that in times of rage, his Irish brogue thickened, “‘m not gonna be anything, if you’re the one making the choices. Add me name to the list. Or don’t, ya always have the option of making a good example outta a’ student.”  
  
She had bristled quite a lot by now, the tension in the air had increased dramatically. So much so that it was nearly at the breaking point. It would explode if they weren’t careful, and everyone in the room knew that he wasn’t careful. Explosions were sort of his thing anyway: it only seemed natural to let another thing blow up in his face.  
  
“Mark my words, boy, you will be shown someday. The Muggles are dirty rotten scoundrels for making these things that destroy the world, and all you can do is sit back and pretend as if they aren’t doing a single thing. You’ll live to regret that.” The threats meant almost nothing anymore. All reason had left him, and now there was only what he might face for doing this again, but sure as hell, Seamus was going to do this again. It felt absolutely wonderful to stand up to a teacher on such little topics, the first time he’d done it had not been his last and neither was this one. Alecto Carrow was going to remember this.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
“Bloody hell, Seamus, you can’t keep your damn mouth shut anymore in either of their classes!” There was an amount of force that was unusual in Neville that came with this sentence; but he only shrugged.  
  
“They’re asking for it, not me.”  
  
“Maybe I would get that if I understood why you were trying to commit to it so much. I know we’ve gotta stand up for what’s right, but we can’t stand up for every little thing that comes out of Alecto Carrow’s mouth.” Which was exactly what he’d managed to do all week and still wasn’t on **The List** yet. Said **List** was already feared by every student-except him-and most wouldn’t dare to cross the line and get onto it.  
  
“Amycus enjoyed it.” He leaned further back into the chair, ignoring the sigh that escaped Neville, and the eyeroll from Ginny, who stood a little ways away, toying with her wand.  
  
“Only because afterward he nearly drove a knife through you. Again.”  
  
The past day had been spent fighting with Amycus Carrow over why knives were not useful for anything anymore. With all the amount of courage it had taken him to stand up and ask why “they were even bothering to learn how to use a knife to stab if ya were only going to use a wand; or are ya suddenly a Muggle?” the unenthusiastic attitudes of the other students had stopped him from throwing his knife into Amycus’ damned old head.  
  
No one else had bothered questioning Amycus’ actions, but most were trying their best to throw the knife weakly at the target to make sure they didn’t actually do any damage. Seamus had outright refused to touch the knife.  
  
If he even thought about knives, he could still feel the cold blade in his gut. The immense memory of the pain had almost caused him to black out. Not touching it was within good reason.  
  
Some people had watched him in sympathy. He wasn’t sure how anyone knew that a knife had been involved in his last detention, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Amycus had all but said it anyway when he’d first refused, blaming it on “the fact that you’re comfortable with a knife means that you’ve had experience before, I expect you to know what to do and where to hit when you use one.”  
  
“I can’t see why they want to use knives. Maybe they’re going to teach us how to use a whip next. And on real people.” This was said rather absentmindedly but Neville looked a bit taken aback anyway.  
  
“I hope not. I refuse to stand and whip anyone…”  
  
“Brings back memories, see? I can’t stab anyone at all. It would hurt me too much an’ it hurts them so what’s the point?” A loud “bang!” announced the arrival of the other members of the D.A. to the Room of Requirement, and Neville left his side to go greet them. Seamus saw a few people look around nervously.  
  
Not having Luna there left a weird feeling of almost... depression, on everyone. Some were less hopeful than others and were under the impression she was in the hands of the Death Eaters or You-Know-Who already. Most people still thought she was reasonably safe. Seamus had his own divided opinion: “safe” wasn’t really a thing anymore, but then again Luna was very good with spells so hopefully she could defend herself.  
  
“Welcome, everyone,” Neville stood at the front of the room, “I … I know this is the first meeting we’ve had so far without... Luna, but I would like to let you know I intend on keeping this up. I don’t want it to die off anymore than any of you do -- even if we were to disband it, we could all still keep a firm grip on being rebellious, which at least one of us has already managed to do in one week of being back.” That last part was said with a shred of annoyance.  
  
Eyes turned to him. Seamus greeted a few with a shrug and others he nodded to. As far as he was concerned, everyone in the entirety of Hogwarts was under the impression that he was insane. It was almost sort of nice because that way, people didn’t question his actions anymore. The rest of the D.A. were under both that idea and also had the distinct ability to know that most of his actions were triggered by the hopeless longing he was feeling all of the time.  
  
“In the meantime, I will say...we need to hold out hope that she is still safe. I know many people think that once you’re gone, you’re gone, but do we really believe that? We can’t give up hope right now. So if you think otherwise, changing your values would be a good idea, right about now.” Ginny lifted her head a bit higher as she spoke, like she was challenging them all. “Now, I think our next … endeavor will be when that List is… finally finished for the two weeks it’s up. We will have everyone there this time. I have no idea what we’ll use to set things off, more explosives or maybe spells and such, but we need to get an idea under construction.”  
  
“What if one of us ends up on...it?” Colin Creevey almost squeaked out, and there were thoughtful nods from all around. Seamus was beginning to wonder if the world really hated him or if people really hated him, because he always ended up being the center of every damned thing. He was probably going to be the next student on **The List** , which was what everyone seemed to be counting on.  
  
“Well then...we’ll rescue them too. We aren’t leaving anyone behind.” Those eyes seemed to travel over to him, but he avoided Neville’s gaze. It seemed like everyone was betting on how many warnings he would get before the name “Seamus Finnigan” appeared on **The List**.  
  
It was getting to a point where even he was wondering how much time it would be before Amycus whipped out his knife or Alecto pulled out her wand and that was the end of it all, all of the rivalries and the tension. Seamus had already decided he wasn’t going to stand for it, and he was going to continue causing interruptions to the classes because Hogwarts needed at least one spokesperson: and no one else was volunteering for the position.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
**Finnigan, Seamus**  
  
Seemingly shimmering before his eyes, Seamus gazed at the words with a feeling of both satisfaction and discontent.  
  
The newest addition to **The List** was both believable and unbelievable. It was only after one more interruption that morning after all, but they’d gotten it up so fast. One class later and here it was, the proof that Amycus Carrow truly wanted him dead.  
  
The time of the planned detention was listed next to the name -- it was at the same time as everyone else’s. Neville and Ginny would be both upset and pleased because at least now someone would be in on where the detention was happening and when they needed to attack it.  
  
Parvati and Lavender waved him over to their table, faces seemingly distressed. Eating was the last thing on anyone’s mind right now it seemed, even if it was lunch time. Small amounts of chatter was allowed during this period. Clearly they wanted to beat it all over his head a few times.  
  
“You finally got what you’ve been asking for since Christmas.” Well, that was certainly not the friendliest hello. The last one he’d heard like that was when Dean had come over the day he was informed the year was to be Dean-less at school -- he gave a flinch at the memory and saw Lavender scrunch up her brow at his unexplained action. “Now what do you think Neville’s going to say?” Parvati continued, motioning over to where the other boy sat talking quietly to Ginny.  
  
“Blame me for what I’ve done, that’s what. He didn’t want it ta happen, ya know, neither did Ginny,” not that he had either, honestly, “but now he’s gotta deal with me all over again. I get it, yer always dealing with me and my broken body after the Carrows. Don’t need to be rubbing it in any further, don’t ya think?”  
  
Lavender shook her head violently, “No, Seamus, that wasn’t what we meant. But you’re right, they’ll beat you to shreds this time. What’re you going to do about it?”  
  
“Keep doing what ‘m doing, I guess. ‘M not the only one. Didn’t you hear, a third year Ravenclaw, that Carl, he stood up to ‘em. And others have too. You guys haven’t done shit, have ye?” To that accusation, there was no answer.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Plans were one thing Seamus admittedly was starting to dislike. Neville was rushing back and forth between the common room and the dorm for hours on end that Thursday, the day before the detention was planned. Students had come up with ideas for them to do, and now things were slowly being set into some sort of motion. There were no explosives this time, but Ginny had retrieved more Peruvian Darkness Powder and there would be spells and such.  
  
“This time” had come far too soon. Friday night at seven, standing outside of the Dark Arts classroom with the rest of the students - feeling more scared than he would ever admit while awaiting the arrival of Amycus Carrow - the doubts were settling in. He was sure to be the first to be tortured and the longest. A month at least had passed by now since the last beating, and nearly two months since the Crucio curse had laid siege on his body, so Seamus was feeling a bit more than simply worried about what it was going to feel like again.  
  
Amycus opened the door with a wide grin on his face, beckoning everyone in and lining them up on the wall. Seamus was not surprised when his name was called first. The line was mostly younger students like last time, but a few older ones had been thrown in for good measure, even two seventh year Hufflepuffs to make things more difficult. Alecto stood at the front -- the whip was not in sight, which didn’t mean a thing.  
  
“So, you’ve been pretty good at avoiding us for a little while, eh, Finnigan?” A while didn’t seem long enough, but he didn’t make the comment. “We’ve had some time to think about what we need to actually be sorting out with you...so first off, we are aware that you were at least a known friend to Harry Potter. Could you perhaps tell us...where he is?”  
  
“No.” Questioning. It had only been a matter of time.  
  
“I’m sure you know, boy,” Alecto had the old familiar purring sound in her voice again, “Just let us know and you’ll be… situated.”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Ah, well...had to start it out the hard way.”  
  
Fire wasn’t even a good description for how this felt. Maybe very hot, excruciatingly slow, boiling tar being poured into his bones was a good description; not much else. The screams were other-worldly again, scaring him slightly because it didn’t sound like him: but it was. They were both cackling again, and screaming over his own screams that ricocheted around the walls.  
  
“Tell us where he is!” Alecto shouted, voice breaking over her own insanity. But words weren’t really accessible right now. The pain stopped suddenly, but he was left lying, twitching on the floor, face down.  
  
“If you don’t know where he is...then perhaps you know where your filthy Mudblood boyfriend is.” No. No no no. Nope. No.  
  
His body froze under some spell uttered by Amycus, a black boot connecting heavily with his side to turn him over to stare at the ugly face of the twin. Alecto came forward, in her hands was the familiar old sight of the black whip, and she was snickering.  
  
“How’re we supposed to whip him with a shirt on, Amy? I’m glad you didn’t wear your robes...they would never have done. Get the shirt off, Amy.” With a low grunt, Amycus bent down and tore said shirt to ribbons, leaving Seamus’ chest exposed. “Oh, you got a number on you, didn’t you, boy? That knife wound still looks tender…it’s a shame you’ll have those scars forever, ruins your beautiful physique.”  
  
Struggling under the bonds of the spell, he shot a glare at Alecto, who gave a smirk when she saw it.  
  
“A shame your...Dean will never see it…” The struggling was more noticeable now, he was trying to move his body, he really was, but he couldn’t. “I’ll have to do this in the honor of that thought, yes, I shall.”  
  
The Cruciatus Curse felt like fire, but there was nothing quite like a whip. Seamus bit into his cheek to keep from screaming as the whip fell in a rhythm. Smug looks crossed both of the twin’s faces simultaneously when the first cry was emitted -- apparently the spell didn’t work for screams of pain because he was able to move his mouth and let it out when he had to.  
  
The newly healed whip lashes were bleeding again, he was sure of it. Between each scream he could hear whimpers from some of the students. They wouldn’t go through this, they couldn’t, he wouldn’t let the Carrows do it. Neville would be here before that.  
  
“Now, tell us, where is the Mudblood, fag?”  
  
“N-never!” He shot it out in the form of a scream still.  
  
“Oh, that won’t do us any good.” Alecto brought her wand from behind her back, dropping the whip again, and shouted the word “Crucio!” in time for his body to be freed from the trapping spell and the fire to return to his bones. “Tell us...come on...you can’t play this game forever, Finnigan.”  
  
The next moment would be forever encased in his mind as a moment of hatred, self-loathing, pure despise of his actions, as he shouted “He’s on the run in the forest somewhere, but I have no bloody clue _where_!” There was a lot more stuttering and gasping on his part but it was still clear enough for them to hear.  
  
“That’s a good boy.” There was still pain stripping down his body.  
  
Each bone was curling under the feeling of the pressure, and he was suddenly rammed into something, something sharp, something that cut down his face along his cheek and then very close to his throat. The up-and-coming cry was blocked by the edge of it. It didn’t hit his windpipe. Alecto let out a squeal of delight and pushed him into one of the desks next. Blood was pouring down his face and out of his chest; everything in him was begging for it to end.  
  
There was a new bruise rising in his back where it had hit the desk already. Large amounts of regret had filtered in through the cracks of thoughts between the pain and the worry in his mind. Where in _hell_ were Neville, Ginny, and the rest of the D.A. at? If they didn’t get here soon, this was going to be the end of Seamus Finnigan, he could practically foresee it.  
  
At the next release of the curse, he gently felt the side of his face, the flap of skin that was now hanging off nearly caused him to cough up everything he’d eaten that day.  
  
Placing a hand down on his ribboned chest and coming up with the blood made him dry heave. It truly was in ribbons: each piece of skin that had been torn up was practically hanging off. Forcing his pain riddled body to turn so he was on his side and not on top of his chest anymore, he realized he’d turned so he was facing the other students. Through the pain there was no smile or any sort of reassurance to offer them. He could hardly lift his eyes anymore, keeping them shut was preferable.  
  
Everything suddenly hit him in that instant. Dean. “Oh god...Dean…” he choked out, heart squeezing at the realization of what he had truly just done. It was over. He might as well die now, because it didn’t look likely that Dean was going to survive much longer, if he still was surviving at all.  
  
“It truly is a shame...you have a nicer figure than I gave you credit for...maybe I should do this constantly, to show you what the cost in life is. Losing yourself is much easier when there’s nothing about you that’s truly appealing.” Alecto crooned, she was kneeling by him but not in the caring way others might have, in the menacing way, probably staring as well.  
  
“What ‘ave...what’ve I done...Dean…” He hated that she could hear him, hear his every word. Hated the cackle that she let out when she heard it.  
  
“Oh...you’ve done good things, but bad things, and now you’re being punished…”  
  
“Dean...oh god...oh god, Dean…” The murmur was so quiet even Alecto couldn’t hear it now, and with each word he felt his heart seemingly scream at its core for his lost love. “I’m sorry…”  
  
Maybe apologizing wasn’t going to do anything. For now it was the only comfortable thing he could think of. It was all messed up now, everything was over. He’d fucked it all up again. Neville needed to get here now, before they turned on someone else. He didn’t care that they had been off enough with the time that he’d been hurt first and only so far. It was better than the entire student body in there getting beaten.  
  
There were a few moments of silence. The self-loathing inside had grown now, grown into hatred for what had been said, what was cost. Dean would be caught and all because of him.  
  
Sounds of spells whizzing past his ears were what caused him to suddenly open his eyes, but it was pitch black in the room now. Pulling himself painfully into a sitting position and then into a hunched over standing position, he didn’t even bother trying to find his shirt that had been lost to the floor. Following the sound of Ernie Macmillan’s magnified voice he found the entrance and collapsed directly outside the door, sinking down against the wall, keeping his eyes open. Students ran past as they fled, not one paid any mind to him. When Padma Patil suddenly came running out and stopped, he watched her eyes widen at the sight of him.  
  
Giving a loud groan, he stood up again, yet couldn’t stay standing once more. Padma was suddenly beside him, pulling him along, not headed in the direction of any dorms. So disoriented was he that Seamus didn’t figure out where they were going until the door opened and he was on a couch suddenly, laid out across it. Small mumbles came from his lips, he was uttering words of apology.  
  
“I’ll be right back, Seamus.” Padma sounded twistedly worried, but he didn’t care. All that was on his mind were questions about how he was going to explain what he did to anybody, and if he was going to be able to at all.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Neville was the one to return to the Room of Requirement that night, not long after Padma left. The amount of blood loss had made Seamus dizzy, but not tired, and he couldn’t find it in himself to fall asleep. It appeared that Neville had bandages in his arms and apparently potions for healing too, because they were all plunked down next to him in a moment.  
  
“Seamus?” The lights were on, clearly he was awake, but he gave a stiff nod to let Neville know he wasn’t sleeping with his eyes closed. “Bloody hell...I’m sorry, Seamus…” Neville had seen everything now, and he was staring with wide eyes at the strips of skin hanging off of his chest.  
  
“Get ‘em on alre-already.” He breathed out.  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay with … ?” Of course the other boy would be worried about applying things to his chest, but honestly, it wasn’t like he cared.  
  
“'M not gonna be wanting a girl doing it, ‘m I?”  
  
That shut Neville up, merely chuckling at the weak attempt at a joke, and he rubbed it all in, not talking as he worked. When it came time for bandages, Seamus sat up gingerly, closing his eyes, as it hurt a good bit. In his mind, he was wishing it was Dean who was doing this. It would have felt glorious -- but he was the one who had betrayed Dean in the end.  
  
“What about your face?” In reply, he took the bottle of healing potion from Neville’s hand and finally opened his eyes, did the work himself, layering it on. “What did they make you do? And don’t try and hide it, I can tell, Seamus.”  
  
“They...I...betrayed him, Neville...I told them he was on the run...I couldn’t help it. They forced me to, Neville. I don’t...I don’t deserve Dean…” Normally it would have taken more prompting, but the words poured out of him in a half sob. “Oh god...what’ve I done?”  
  
“There’s other Muggleborns on the run, Seamus…”  
  
He looked up at Neville, “They’ll get him...and it’ll be my fault, Neville. Because I cou-couldn’t keep the screams down...”  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Being as it was, the Carrows didn’t lay blame on anyone in particular until Sunday. The whole ordeal was announced by a very angry Alecto, who had chosen to stick to explaining why this was a horrible thing by saying that “they had been rudely interrupted in handing out proper punishment to a student”.  
  
At the time, it had made him shudder to hear it, even though it was Neville who told him about it after it happened. Seamus was still hiding in the Room of Requirement as he wasn’t willing to move. News from the outer walls was handed to him by students of the D.A. who dropped by, sometimes even with food.  
  
Then it of course happened and the blame was finally laid. They suspected Neville again, having heard his familiar voice announcing things. Ginny was singled out soon enough as well, she was a suspect since she’d been in the last ordeal, and it didn’t make any sense to them not to blame it on her in some form. No one had yet come into the Room since that morning and Seamus was certain he knew why. Punishment was being dealt.  
  
Dennis Creevey suddenly bounded into the room, shutting the door quickly so a loud “CRASH!” was heard after him, causing Seamus to lift his head a bit. The pain was still fresh and new: movement still wasn’t something he was enjoying.  
  
“Seamus!” The younger boy stood beside him, eyes wide, body tense with fear. “Seamus, Neville wanted me to tell you -- well, he didn’t want me to tell you, he would want me to tell you and maybe he wouldn’t for your sake-”  
  
“Dennis.” He breathed out, staring at the boy. “Slowly.”  
  
“Right. Sorry.” Dennis gave a small grin, “Okay, well, what I was saying was, that Amycus caught Neville. He’s suspected ‘im right off from the start. Not a huge surprise, though. But Neville’s been taken into one of the little rooms off to the sides of the hall, you know how they are, and I’m assuming he’s being tortured. We all walked past it cringing. Ginny was pulled in this morning, but no one else has been caught. The D.A. wanted to meet in here, we really tried, but it’s too dangerous. You probably can’t get out of here on your own, can you?”  
  
“Does it look...look like it?” Being rude and all wasn’t exactly something he liked, but right now the sarcasm was plenty. Breathing was still a problem anyway, the cuts down his chest made it hard to take deep breaths of any type. “Look, ya gotta get on back to yer dorm. I’ll be fine.”  
  
“That’s it, though, Seamus. They’ve started searching the castle. If they happen to find you anywhere but in your house, like we’ve been telling ‘em you were, they’ll…” “finish you” was left out of the statement but it hung in the air for a moment.  
  
“Fine.” Seamus replied. He wasn’t sure he could do this. He hadn’t moved off the couch in almost two days.  
  
“I’ll help you.”  
  
Dennis was smaller, but not terribly much. That seemed to be the case these days, Seamus was abnormally short and everyone else who was shorter was destined to be taller than he. But the younger boy exhibited a strength he hadn’t predicted, as he was hoisted onto his shoulder. He was indeed being dragged by Dennis to the door, and then out of it, keeping his eyes closed and one hand on his side as his feet tried to work.  
  
Not moving one’s feet for a long period of time made them immobile. Constantly he would trip over them on the way up a flight of stairs and lean all of his small amount of weight against the other. If Dennis Creevey could hold him up, then anyone would be able to at this point, and even more so after the toll of not having gained any dinner that evening or lunch during the day turned on him.  
  
The trip to the common room seemed longer and more full of his curses than normal. If something hurt, he’d utter a “fuck” under his breath, but Dennis didn’t seem to mind. The fifth year was more preoccupied with the fact that he had to make sure they didn’t fall down the stairs backwards. Upon arrival at the portrait hole, the Fat Lady took pity once more and swung open without the password being even mentioned. The silence in the common room was quite a source of information as they entered, and Seamus felt his heart crack a little at the harshness of it.  
  
“Here, let me help.” Parvati darted over, taking his other arm so that he was only dragging his toes now and no longer needed to move himself.  
  
Years before, Seamus had admitted to Dean - he kicked himself mentally now - that Parvati was a no-good chatterbox who only lived for boys and romance. In fact, she was very much like Lavender in that respect, with just a shade of maturity to her. Now it seemed everything had been switched up. If Dean could see him now, he’d be chuckling in that nice, low way of his, and smirking at the extreme difference in things and he’d be…  
  
“Seamus? Are you in there?” It sounded almost far away, like Parvati was speaking through paper, but with a shake of the head, he cleared it.  
  
“Ye-yeah.” They were already in the dorm.  
  
“Which bed?” Dennis piped up.  
  
They didn’t know which bed he was technically supposed to be sleeping on, neither of them had been in here before. Feeling his heart skip a beat, he nodded to what was originally known as Dean’s bed. He needed it, tonight, he needed it, because Neville wasn’t there to ignore his choice. Once on top of it, the comfort of real pillows and an actual bed was something new and foreign and delightfully alien. Parvati and Dennis crept out, he heard their whispering as they left.  
  
Taking in the scent of the bed, which no longer smelled like Dean, no matter how hard he tried to make it, he clutched a pillow to his chest and felt the tears that been held down since Dennis had told him about what had happened come up and pour out. It wasn’t all for Neville and Ginny, but some of it was. The fact that the Carrows even had the guts to take two students and torture them like that was truly unfair.  
  
Full sobs were forced back down. There was no need for those right now, only light crying. Crying over Dean. Crying over what the Carrows had made him do, which he was still beating himself up for. Crying about what would become of them all after this was over -- would they even survive it? He wasn’t doing very well at the survival part, Seamus knew that, his body knew that.  
  
Survival was a matter of choices, and so far, all of his choices were leading him in the exact opposite direction, but maybe that’s why it was so easy to chose what you knew was the wrong way, and so damn hard to chose what you know is the right way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was a taste of something good for everyone! (Or, not good, depending on how you see it, it seems to get more and more depressing, I will admit.)  
> I hope to update sooner than I did this time, that was... a really... long... break. I sort of got caught up in this new fandom (still am), WTNV, so I've been busy listening to that rather than actually doing any work? Yeah it's a slight addiction problem.  
> But I promise not to abandon updating this!


	6. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it only gets worse from here. This chapter brings along plenty of it's own woes.  
> 

Hell was about to break lose and Seamus Finnigan would be at the forefront of it all.  
  
Classes were getting worse. Students were more harassed in the Carrows’ classes now than they had been before. The ‘teachers’ seemed to have taken up treating anyone they didn’t see fit for wizardry like dirt as a new hobby. He’d been forced to go to classes that Monday after his beating and they hadn’t cared. Now here they were, almost a week after his mortifying return to classes, standing around, expected to shoot these kids with the Cruciatus Curse yet again.  
  
Alecto had stepped in - so who knew what the Muggle Studies class was doing right now - for a short time, watching and waiting. They had been using the Curse for some time now, continuing it on insects after the fail with the first round of students. Amycus decided that enough was enough, and students were the victims once more.  
  
“I expect better behavior out of you all this time around. Most of you should have learned your lesson, eh?” His black eyes traveled over Neville’s bruised face, and lingered on the front of Seamus’ shirt, seemingly seeing beneath it to the now mostly-healed rigid lines. “If you don’t…” The wand flicked upward, and Seamus visibly flinched away from it. Amycus saw him; and smirked.  
  
Any time before this year he would have thought being scared of a wand was silly. Now Seamus feared both of the Carrows and their wands together more than anything.  
  
“I don’t want to have to force you to do this. In fact, I think it’s a good idea to simply do it. That way I don’t have to make you, yeah?”  
  
Standing silently, he glared at the man. He’d been placed (strategically of course) first in the line of attackers, so he was of course expected to make the first move. But he wasn’t going to: he’d done his thinking on this matter before and he wasn’t going to attack anyone or anything. Amycus watched him continue to stand there silently.  
  
“Well? Are you going to finally listen to me, boy? Or shall I do what I have to on you?” Amycus put on his infamous sneer, moving forward a bit, wand raised. “I expected more out of you when I first saw you, boy. But you’re not good at anything but blowing up everything you touch, hmm?”  
  
The extremely visible flinch he gave at that caused a laugh out of several people, mostly Slytherins; Malfoy seemed to make sure he was the loudest one of them all. Seamus had already blown up several things in potions that year and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know why Amycus - of all people - was aware of his tendencies. Along with that, he’d already blown up his relationship with Dean -- that he was sure of.  
  
“Come on, I know you’re capable of more than you’re going to ever let on.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You’re always refusing-oh-alright. IMPERIO!” The spell caught him off guard as everything flew out of his control.  
  
He was torturing the girl in front of him, it was Lavender, her hair flopping uselessly everywhere and her face contorted. People were visibly cringing as they listened to the screams. For a moment he wasn’t pointing his wand at her anymore, and just as soon as he thought it was over, the curse escaped from his mouth once more and Lavender was flailing again.  
  
With an effort he didn’t know he had, he forced away the Imperius curse from his mind. It sent him nearly to the ground as he lowered his wand, stoutly refusing to be controlled. Amycus let out a small nervous laugh as he turned to face the ‘teacher’. Lavender lay panting on the floor. It was all his fault she’d been in pain in the first place. Everything inside of him was breaking down in fast sheets of inner turmoil.  
  
He had just beaten a student. He had used an Unforgivable Curse. He was as bad as them now, he had sunk to their level. A small moan of defeat came from his lips and he nearly fell down right then and there. Strong arms gripped his waist, Neville was there again -- a fire was alight in his eyes that Seamus had never seen before.  
  
“How _dare_ you use a student like that.” The anger in Neville’s voice was almost tangible, it was thick and full of every angry emotion that he had probably been holding in since break. “You can’t force them to do your bidding like _that_. You do know that, right? You’re not a teacher and you never will be.”  
  
“Ah, Longbottom...I like your style. He’s got a flair, isn’t that right?” The group of Slytherins let out another chorus of snickers. Seamus watched them through half-open eyes. “But it’s too bad...really...I would have liked to see the Mudblood lover have to go through what he did right now in his mind without having to be supported like he always is. It’s truly pathetic, Finnigan. Always being held up by someone else...never able to stand for your own, and when you do--well then we have our way and you’re being supported again. Always unable to do anything without anyone else. Weak.”  
  
More of what was predictable rage entered his mind and with what sounded like a cat’s hiss, he pushed out of Neville’s arms and threw himself at Amycus Carrow with all of his very small amount of weight. The tall man went down under him, and he pinned the ‘teacher’ down with his arms. It felt like everything was on fire. Alecto let out a small sigh; she didn’t do anything except stand and watch.  
  
“Ya keep saying things like that and I’ll break you meself if I have to.” He spat onto the ugly face in front of him, everything coming out of him in a stream of fury.  
  
Amycus had a smirk on his face, “Oh, I’m sure you would, Finnigan. Just remember, whatever you say gets held against you.”  
  
What could only be described as a roar of rage emitted from him and he punched Amycus in the face with one hand before being thrown onto the ground and kicked in the chest. Air left him, he struggled to find it again as Amycus came to standing over him. The rest of the students had gone silent and obviously didn’t wish to talk any longer. The only the sounds in the room were of panicked breathing from his pained lungs.  
  
“You’re still angered by what you’ve done, aren’t you? And with a right, too. You deserve what’s coming for you, boy...Oh you deserve it more than anything.”  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
“Seamus?” The redhead was watching him with concern. He silently damned her and her perfect timing of appearing whenever one was feeling depressed.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I heard about what they made you do in class today...or tried to…” Each bruise on his body gave a twinge at her words like living things. “Did he actually...kick you into...unconsciousness? In front of...everyone?”  
  
“Yes.” His voice broke as the bruises all up and down his back and stomach and face cried out in unison.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Ginny sat down next to him, face completely full of concern. He was curled up as far as he could into the couch corner: the whole common room was empty now, but earlier it had been hell.  
  
“You’re not doing anythin’...’s not your fault. ‘S all mine. ‘M the one who gave him away, Ginny, ‘m the one who is to blame if he…” The word was unable to come out of his mouth, and he choked it back while watching her expression flicker between pain and sorrow.  
  
“Seamus, it’s like Neville told you...there are tons of people on the run…”  
  
“They’ll find him, Ginny.” Tremors were going through his body now as he spoke, and he silently cursed his insufferable weakness when he was talking about his lost lover.  
  
“And if they do, he’s strong, Seamus. He’ll make it through. You don’t honestly think he’s not equally worried about you, do you? I worry about Harry all the time and I’m sure he’s caught up in something all of that time; but he has to be at least a little worried about me or what’s going on here.  
  
‘If there’s one thing I learned from being in a relationship with Dean, it’s that he won’t give up on the person he loves. Even if he really didn’t _love me,_ love me, he still cared about me. If he can care so strongly about me like he did, then he must be a complete wreck over you because...he’s so careful with his emotions, but he has a lot of them. I’m sure you know all about that. And... I’m also sure he wants you as much as you want him,” she had a sort of faraway look on her face, but she at least _sounded_ like she truly cared, “and at least...it’s making you care about others, too, isn’t it? You’re so worried about Dean but you’re also worried about anyone else who has to suffer. Sometimes...sometimes it’s like you want all the suffering for yourself because you think you deserve it. You don’t but...you act like you do.”  
  
“If they do, it’s all me fault.” Twisting the words out of his severely bruised face sent shocks of pain up and down it. He was still focused on what Ginny was trying to persuade him from and he could tell she was a little pissed at how he’d turned the topic back to what she didn’t want him dwelling on.  
  
“Seamus...if what you have done is all...he really does love you, Seamus.”  
  
If he could have let himself, Seamus would have broken down completely on top of Ginny Weasley right then and there. Everything could have come out, all the worry, all the pain, all the fear.  
  
Dean would have been described a thousand times over to her in multiple ways, all the ways Dean could be seen in. She would have been sympathetic perhaps -- or downright disgusted by his behavior. It was this notion that kept him from going into a full-blown fit.  
  
Ginny waited a few seconds more before standing to leave. She appeared to be struggling between saying more and walking away, and the latter would have clearly been preferred.  
  
“If … if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I know I’m not really a close friend...but I hope maybe I look better in your sight now. Or something. Neville’s there too, you know, Seamus. We’re all ready to help you.”  
  
Bile rose in his throat, “Isn’t that what Amycus said?” He spat it out with such a tone of ferocity she stepped back a bit. “‘M always relying on others. People are always supporting me. Can’t do a thing on my own. Always needing some sort of protection, I am.”  
  
A beat passed before Ginny stepped forward closer to him now, and it looked like a fire had been started in her eyes when she did.  
  
“That’s what friends are for, Seamus. You’ve got to understand. We’re here to help because you need it. Seamus, you’ve said more things against the Carrows than any student in Hogwarts dares to say against Snape behind his back, and that’s saying something. You’ve done damage. Don’t listen to what that git Amycus says. You know better than to listen to him, you know so much better than that, Seamus.” The opening of the portrait hole stopped Ginny from continuing her rant, and he looked over to see Neville, staring at them.  
  
“What’s going on?” Seamus lifted his head a bit further at the question and was preparing his answer when Ginny struck.  
  
“He insists that we can’t help him anymore because Amycus Carrow told him he was ‘relying on others’ or some other crap,” Neville flinched at the comment, no doubt remembering the similar words spoken earlier, “and I don’t believe him at all. He shouldn’t be so stubborn, Neville. Seamus wants to refuse our help entirely because of something that bastard Amycus _supposedly_ said to him. Did he actually say it?”  
  
Neville nodded slowly, “Yeah.”  
  
The red-head seemed to deflate a bit, but not nearly enough. Apparently there was plenty of venom still left in her, as she turned on him with a newfound anger. Seamus tried to disappear into the couch even further when she began.  
  
“I don’t see why you let comments like that rule your life.” It was all she said, and it was enough to strike a chord in him: he physically felt it when she spat out the words.  
  
“Do you know the shit they’ve been telling me for months?! Yer not even able to understand me, you have no idea what they’ve told me the past times ‘ve been tortured, you would never understand! Ya got no idea.” Instead of with tears, he was letting go of his emotional garbage with shouts, and probably waking up the entirety of the tower with it. “I ‘ave been called-called ‘fag’ so many times, ‘m starting to believe it!”  
  
The outburst was on a rather random tangent, he had to admit it, but it shut Ginny up. No retort was made as both Neville and her stared at him in horror. Seamus hadn’t meant to admit that out loud. It had been plaguing him from the beginning, the question lingering around the air. Was he truly a disgrace to wizardkind? After a time, it started to repeat in one’s head, and pound on the conscience. He loved Dean almost out of the boundaries of rhyme and reason -- Seamus really didn’t care if it was sick or wrong. Yet he worried about his outward appearance and all of this worry and use of the word he hated so very much were starting to wear on him, even if it wasn’t destroying his love. It never could.  
  
Most people would have said “No, of course not!” to such a horrific statement -- which was also the answer he assumed Ginny was prepared to use on him now.  
  
“Seamus…”  
  
“‘M not staying around for whatever you have to say on the matter right now. Sure, Amycus and Alecto are gits but there isn’t much we can do about that, now can we?” He made sure to glare at her particularly hard when he stood up weakly and stormed out of the room as best he could with each muscle screaming in defiance. Neville shouted something behind him, but he ignored it like anyone would have in these situations. It was better to go silently than to go shouting things back at the person you were trying to get a point across to.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Showers were the closest thing to complete relaxation he was getting anymore, yet the biggest fear Seamus had about them was the mirror installed on the wall directly across from where one entered and exited the shower itself.  
  
It was a full-body length mirror; at least for him it was, perhaps not quite for Neville anymore. Stripping was becoming a thing to avoid in there because of what his body looked like underneath the clothes. Clothes served as protection from the outer world peering in -- and witnessing all of the signs of weakness.  
  
Ginny had let out loud huffs of indignance every time he approached her for the past few days, so he’d decided not to bother trying to talk to her anymore after growing tired of it. Neville seemed to be completely neutral: he offered conversations to either of them and Seamus completely loathed that Ginny was still able to talk to Neville. She shouldn’t be allowed to. Or maybe he was the one who shouldn’t talk to Neville. Should he really be talking to anyone at all?  
  
Floating back from the depths of his mind, he readjusted himself for the torment ahead. For once Seamus actually wanted to see his body in full view of the mirror, or at least, half way. Shoving off his robes and shirt in a haste of sorts, he sucked in a deep breath at the sight of his chest reflected back at him. It was covered in brand new scars and still-weak skin where things were in the process of fully healing. The bruises were huge, covering nearly all of the area of his ribcage.  
  
This month had been a little uneventful on the side of whips and the Cruciatus Curse so far. It was, after all, only February 6th, but it was always easy to fuck things up really fast, even in a short period of time.  
  
Despite that, the scars were so fresh looking and numerous he couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. The large white spot where the knife had been was not unfamiliar to him; many nights had been spent analyzing it in his bed with growing fear about what anyone would ever think. It was such a big spot, too, really showing off what he’d been through, and even though he knew it like the back of his hand by now, he still reached down to touch it gently.  
  
Mirrors were perfectly evil, he decided. They always showed what they wanted you to think you looked like. Disfigurement and lies was more akin what they showed; yet it was hard to deny the numerous problems lying all over him. Each one was a sign of a new beating.  
  
The old lines from the whip had faded faster as Madame Pomfrey had a sort of ointment she used to fix up scars. But the new ones were quite colorful and made even more so by the bruises -- and so was his face, which also had large amounts of bruising from that latest beating.  
  
With a sigh, Seamus finished analyzing his body and turned to step out of his trousers and undergarments gingerly before slipping into the shower. He could now disappear from the world for a short time in the running water.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
“What exactly are we doing this for?” Neville hissed, his eyes wide in the dark. Seamus nodded along with the question, gazing at Ginny with confusion clouding his thoughts.  
  
“I thought it would be good if people knew about us...and so I got some paint.” The can was indeed quite large and full of green paint, which would clash horribly with some of these walls. Something told him that she had intended that effect quite deliberately. “We’re going to write little things about the D.A. here, like we did back when we were recruiting earlier in the year.”  
  
He froze slightly, “Yer aware we suffered a good bit after that, yeah?”  
  
Seamus personally had been unable to perform the duties of the paint jobs in the night but he’d heard about them from everyone. Ginny had organized some old D.A. members every night to go and paint on the walls, informing people of their need to have some newer students come in.  
  
At first they’d been able to get away with it, but then Filch had caught on and students suffered from more than just the Cruciatus Curse. The Irish boy was aware that plenty of the people who had been in the infirmary when he was at the end of October and into November had been D.A. members who had been subjected to wooden sticks with curses thrown in between by the Carrows.  
  
“I’m not stupid, Seamus. What we need to do now is spread awareness that we’re here to help. I want this one to say simply “Dumbledore’s Army” to alert people that we’re still here. I’ve not got any catchphrases but if you think of one…” she gave a jerk of the head at the wall, “we’ll use it.”  
  
“This is...insane. Chances of being caught are really, really high... But I’ll do it.” He agreed to it only because it felt right. If they got caught, Seamus figured he deserved to be tormented a little more for what he’d done to Dean.  
  
Neville turned to him in the faint light that came from a window, “I know you’ll do it but if you’re caught, Seamus...don’t go around beating yourself up. Please. Try to avoid that.”  
  
“Can’t have you being the first to die.” Ginny muttered it in a low tone so only he heard it.  
  
“We’re standing in the corner of a corridor past curfew. ‘M not sure you’re the one who should be talking about dying right now. Might jinx yourself.”  
  
This was the first time they’d all done anything together in a while -- as well as the first time in five days that Ginny had even talked to him at all. She had decided that the weekend was a good time to execute this plan, and execute it she did. In fact, she was probably about to execute them both along with it, but Seamus had shoved that down to the depths of his brain till now. Neville seemed mostly relieved that they were all back on speaking terms.  
  
“Alright. We go down this corridor and to the right, there’s a space I think will do quite nicely for tonight. If you hear or see anything, remember, Neville, shoot something back our way.” Neville gave a dip of the head and Seamus listened to him rustling quietly away into the dark, becoming one with the night. “Now, Seamus, you come with me. I’ve got two brushes. You can work on...on the word below me. Remember, it’s just “Army” for now. I’ll probably come up with something once we’ve done this but I haven’t got any good catch phrases on the tip of my tongue right now.”  
  
Of course his height would factor into this; but he didn’t do anything except nod like Neville and move into a crouch next to Ginny. They moved slowly along the corridor: getting there was the really tricky part. Any sort of loud noise might as well be a loudspeaker screaming “HERE I AM!”; and for a moment Seamus was proud of himself for remembering something so Muggle-ish like a loudspeaker. Dean had once tried to teach him the importance of such things but it was without success because he’d disagreed and thought the idea of using a simple spell to amplify your voice was much more interesting.  
  
The corridor was very dimly light, and he had to mutter “Lumos” to see anything that was two feet in front of him. The wall was indeed very nice for vandalism like this: large, orange, -- an unusual color for walls in Hogwarts. It made him a little suspicious of previously completed actions by Ginny. It was expansive, though.  
  
Ginny held out a paintbrush, and the Muggle-esque work began.  
  
Short but simple. Seamus liked things like that because they reminded him of explosions. The giant “A” only took about a second but with each stroke, he felt satisfaction seep into him. At the “R” he let out a little sigh and watched the paint drip slightly as he brushed up, around, across, and down at an angle very gently. “M” was quick to follow: straight up, diagonally down, diagonally up, straight down. “Y” was the last and slowest of them all, and for some reason he found he’d been holding his breath through the past two letters. Down at an angle, down straight, back up at an angle and...done.  
  
His “partner in crime” was still busy at work, brushing quickly to finish “edore”. He sat down as softly as he could manage, watching her while holding onto the paintbrush.  
  
There was something significant about paint and paintbrushes to him that he was able to describe almost perfectly. Dean. The other boy had always enjoyed using paints, although he tended to work more with pencils and charcoal-more Muggle-esque things Seamus had never tried to understand and instead enjoyed their nice look -- and it was sort of a treat whenever paints were going to be used at all in a picture.  
  
“Seamus? Done?” She came up from shoving the paintbrush back into the can. He nodded. “Good.”  
  
They escaped the corridor without even a single person arriving, except Neville, who came back to report that Alecto was headed down a distant corridor but wouldn’t get there in time to see them at all. Seamus let himself smile as the image of Alecto screaming in frustration when she saw what they had done to the wall came to mind. Sunday morning would definitely not be a holy one that day, in fact, it was almost promised to be hell. But maybe it was a good hell -- if that was even conceivably a thing.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Monday morning had brought a sense of new mass-hysteria. Alecto had made it clear yesterday that anyone who was guilty of painting the now-mostly-removed words on the wall would suffer greatly if they were discovered. Seamus sometimes truly wondered how dense the twins were - neither thought to blame those who had been causing a decent amount of ruckus all year - but he was as grateful of their density as all other students were.  
  
The warmth of the dorm was welcoming. Trying to get to anywhere while classes were switching other than a classroom required all manners of pushing to get through the students, a talent he was particularly good at and had built up over the years. Now that he could finally breath, he sat down on the edge of Dean’s bed - not without a small wince as pain tore through his chest - and collected himself.  
  
Each corner of the windows was covered in snow, and more fell every second. It had been snowing since November so it wasn’t something new -- but the thought of Dean out there in the cold all alone was lingering on the edge of his mind once more, like it had many times before.  
  
Seamus stared at the snowflakes for a few minutes, wondering if the idea that no two snowflakes were the same held any truth to it; and if not, that maybe Dean was watching the same snowflakes fall in front of him. He could almost see the lost look in the chocolate brown eyes as each flake fell and covered tracks perhaps left behind and perhaps made a fire nearly impossible to start.  
  
With a sigh, he folded in on himself - now fully positioned on the bed - and lay there, feeling his eyes drift into that between of the waken state and sleep. Every sound could be processed but not seen. It was a feeling that was almost always enjoyable when he got the chance to use it. The world could be blocked out and he could doze with thoughts running about his head.  
  
But most of them were about Dean and the snow. Memories of snow-covered shores by the lake, snow angels (as childish as they might have seemed then seemed more grown up than ever now) and tasting the soft wetness of each flake on one’s tongue. They were 12, running through Hogwarts to go outside into the great whiteness…  
  
13, storming into the open air and shoving snowballs at each other with a flick of the wand.  
  
15, and walking along the lake, in silence, wondering why everything was suddenly so messed up and why no one could seem to get along anymore, why they themselves couldn’t work anything out anymore.  
  
16, and tackling Dean into the snow like they were 11, feeling something else rise up inside him, only to be shaken off by Dean who had spotted Ginny and wanted to go talk to her too.  
  
Maybe tears weren’t exactly something one could create while their eyes were closed, but he felt their familiar wetness rising up behind his temples. That last memory had been especially painful for a while. Now it was painful with a bittersweetness to it: the fact that it was the only one he had maintained clearly enough from the last time they’d been in the snow brought a new pain.  
  
Seamus _knew_ his emotional state wasn’t doing so well anyways, he wasn’t sure why he would torture himself with memories like that.  
  
Except that it wasn’t _really_ a memory, he speculated as he lay there, more of a reminder of what once was. What maybe could be, except on different terms. Shifting his position and rolling onto his stomach, he pushed his face into the pillow, beginning to count the number of ways he could be forced into crying because of Dean. God, why was everything so cruel?  
  
It had to be freezing out in that snow out there. Probably below zero if you stayed out long enough, and Dean surely didn’t have the right clothing. Hell, was he sleeping under an actual roof? Maybe he had a tent. That was the smallest amount of hope Seamus could allow himself to have under the circumstances. He didn’t want to become too nervous or hopeful about it, or it would tear him to pieces.  
  
Hopefully there were other people with Dean, because even if he was the strong and silent type, he wasn’t going to survive without other people. He’d never directly told Seamus, but the Irish boy had figured out that much for himself when he’d realized Dean was truly the clingy type. Once things got bad enough out in the world, Dean liked to hide with people. He could be introverted, but a majority of the time it was shown through his art; and often Seamus would be in the same room as him when he locked himself into his mind. Dean liked company. He liked Seamus’ company. And he no longer had that.  
  
Pressing his face further into the pillow would probably result in a permanent picture of his face in there, and no one needed to know he spent time on Dean’s bed other than Neville, who -- where on this good earth was Neville? It was break for him too. He’d muttered something in the hall but disappeared.  
  
Seamus decided it wasn’t worth thinking much about. He wanted to get back to being stubborn and thinking about Dean, because that was the least painful thing he could do anymore, was think about his lover. Even if it did cause a lot of tears and pain. Anyway, it didn’t matter what Neville was doing. That boy could keep to his own very nicely at times. Just like Dean.  
  
“Oh god…” he moaned it into the pillow, slamming a fist into the side of the bed, “oh god...god Dean…ya wouldn’t understand why ‘m doing this right now, I know ya wouldn’t. You’d ask me why I was slamming me fist into the bed and moaning ‘bout you. But maybe ya’d understand…”  
  
Talking aloud was something he’d decided to pick up a few days ago, when there was no one around. It felt _so_ good to tell someone that wasn’t actually there something as if they actually were. And he only used it to talk to Dean about things.  
  
“Gotta have a lot of gut, you do. Look at that snow...ya’d better be safe. I couldn’t … I don’t think I can deal with yer being gone much longer. Look at me.” He’d turned so he was no longer talking into the pillow, and was facing the bed beside him now, his bed. “Tell me this isn’t what insane people do? Although you might understand, being that ya gotta good habit of being all to yourself all the time.  
  
‘Alecto says she’s gonna beat whoever did that “painting” on the wall when she finds out. Not that she ever will, at least, not yet. I can’t imagine what’s in store for us when she does. I’ll get through it. Isn’t that what ‘m doing right now? Yeah, getting through it. Like normal; and that’s really normal, ‘cause that’s what people expect, you know? Seamus Finnigan, the one who gets through it: every beating to only gain ‘imself another. I aim for them though, and I do get what I want. Not that I’ve done anything to get another recently, just talked out in class the past few times I needed to. Shoulda heard Alecto this morning, going on about Muggles and their “greenhouse gasses being harmful to magic” or whatever. Wanted to rip her throat out, I did. I resisted, and called her out on it instead. Better that than what I mighta had coming for me.” This was better, it was so much better, much better than just thinking about Dean. Seamus went on to describe more things, including thoughts that were floating across his mind, right until he nearly fell asleep and was rudely interrupted from doing so by the alarm going off for switching classes.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
“We’re all aware that it’s becoming dangerous everywhere, Terry.” Neville’s face had gone from bright red to a purplish-red in seconds, his anger clearly growing. “Would you stop bickering about things we already know and focus on what we can do here?”  
  
“I don’t see the point if we’re all just going to drop dead anyway. Ten Galleons that he’s the one that drops dead first, and we’re the ones that have to deal with the aftermath of losing someone. Already.” Terry was pointing at him with a trembling finger. Why was everyone always trying to involve him in every little thing?  
  
Ginny stepped forward, shaking with anger herself, “Don’t you dare say anything like that, you miserable sod. None of us are going to “drop dead” as you say. That’s a horrible thought and a horrible thing to bet on, and you know it as well as everyone that if anything, Seamus will be the one who outlasts us all.”  
  
“I’m still not convinced we’re doing anything worth our time here. It’s the middle of February and we haven’t done a single thing all month.”  
  
“What are ya talking about? We literally went and painted half the walls in the past few days, and we’ve survived it, you were part of it, an’ yet ya think you can go around saying we haven’t been doing nothing?” Once more his brogue came across thickly as he stood up and looked Terry in the eyes. “This is ‘sactly what we can’t be have happening. Turning against each other and fighting it out like dogs? Makes a man sorry they ever decided to join in the first place.”  
  
Some people bristled or tensed at that point. They all knew he’d joined the D.A. late in fifth year only mostly because of Dean and only a tiny bit because he no longer trusted his mam to tell him everything and believed most of what Harry said.  
  
Most people were doing it now because they believed Harry would get them out of here. Seamus held the firm belief that he would do it for everyone who couldn’t help themselves like he’d stated many a time before, and that Harry was only a part of the reason _why_ once more, because Harry was only one person. You just couldn’t put that much hope in one person, as he’d come to discover.  
  
Terry stood with his arms crossed and eyes on fire, but Ginny and Neville were gazing at Seamus with what seemed like almost disappointment. They couldn’t have expected him to say anything nice to Boot after _that_ , could they? It would have been ridiculous. And if Terry thought they weren’t doing anything, he should look again at the numerous scars now lining almost every student.  
  
“Prove it to me. You’ve been doing your fair share of fighting. But prove it to me that we’ve been doing something in the past month and a half ‘sides chasing people out of detention.” Terry still stared at him with that same stubbornness.  
  
Pulling off his tie and then proceeding to unbutton his shirt caused the rest of the room to shift around uneasily, but Seamus never took his eyes off of Terry. The other boy stared at him relentlessly. Once he shrugged off his shirt, though, he saw the other teen cringe so hard he practically fell over -- dead silence ruled the room as the rest of the D.A. (that was there and not in the hospital due to other previous tortures during classes or something) took in each and every scar. He was getting a rather personal feeling from this, he’d only ever wanted Dean to see his scars. At this point he was getting so desperate to show that maybe he had done something, this was apparently the only way to do it.  
  
“Bloody hell.” Anthony said loudly enough and many heads nodded along with his blunt statement.  
  
“Maybe these aren’t from this past month only, god knows ‘m trying to keep ‘em away and all, and stop these from being visible, but maybe now you’ll believe me when I say that we’ve all been doing our fair share and honestly ‘m tired of being dragged into constant arguments. If I were to,” he took a breath to steady himself before continuing, “die, before the end of the year, ‘m aiming to go out with more of a bang than any you ever will.”  
  
The scars mostly spoke for themselves after that. Neville was staring at him in a sort of strange admiration, like he had seen something brash like this coming and yet wasn’t sure what to make of it when it was in front of him. All Seamus could do was flash him a very quick smile to try and reassure him that this was simply normal Seamus-actions taken to a bit of an extreme.  
  
In a short time, he pulled the shirt back on and began buttoning it up again, sitting back down on his couch to do so and watching the others begin to move. The comfort level that was usually encased in the Room of Requirement was practically gone. It was fine, though, with him. Without another word to anyone, he stalked out, still holding his tie in his hands and muttering to himself about the fact that some people didn’t know staring was rude.  
  
It didn’t matter that he was about to miss Potterwatch tonight. Someone could always deliver the bad news if they wanted to. For now, Seamus needed more alone time than he usually did. “Talking” to Dean might do the trick at the moment, but only so long so that he didn’t run into Neville or someone hearing him while doing it. No need to have another reason for everyone to question his sanity.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
Cold air swept across the courtyard and a few random snowflakes came tumbling down with it. There were students everywhere, some talking, others making sure they froze their bums off in the snow. Seamus never understood people who liked to sit in the snow until they were practically frozen: only to move - after a while - stiffly to the door and demand on hot chocolate and extra blankets. They were the ones sitting out in the snow and doing this to themselves, what did they expect? The worst of the whole ordeal was that there were many students like that in Hogwarts for some strange reason.  
  
He, on the other hand, was sitting on a bench rubbing his gloved hands together and staring at the ground. The bench was completely clear of any snow as it had a heating charm applied to it. Said charm was an awfully useful thing to be able to use on the seat, and Seamus had to wonder why those stupid kids who sat in the middle of the snow didn’t bother trying to use one on the ground below them.  
  
“Nice warm bench you’ve got here.” A light “thunk!” was heard as Parvati sat down beside him.  
  
“Keeps me arse warm unlike some of those tossers out there.” He had to give light shake of the head at them, it was really weird; and he happened to think that Luna would probably be out there with them if she was there. “What you up to?”  
  
“Oh, studying and stuff. Not that anything’s much use these days...I was looking up various defensive spells,” he turned his head to look at her gentle expression, “I think we could really learn more if we decided to practice with the D.A., you know? Neville and Ginny need to start that up again.”  
  
Shrugging, he looked out at the snowy courtyard again, “I think they didn’t want to have to deal with it. They figured we’d already learned enough. But what happens at the end of it all? We’ll have to fight some day, an’ then we need to know more than we probably do. I agree...Maybe we could start it up again.”  
  
She hummed in agreement and silence fell on them. Defensive spells were the sort of thing Seamus could usually manage. He often blew stuff up when he tried to attack someone, not that it wouldn’t have helped if he was in fact, attacking someone, because blowing a Death Eater up would satisfy him more than anything right now. Two Death Eaters in particular would be really fun. The looks on their stupid faces when they were suddenly attacked by him, the tiny little leprechaun, and they were blown to smithereens was enough to make him crack the smallest smile.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” Parvati was watching him like he was crazy again, except this time with a smile on her face.  
  
“Oh, imagining the looks on the Carrows’ faces if I got the chance to blow ‘em up.” That was just a dream at this point. “It’ll never happen, though.”  
  
There was another hum, “I wouldn’t say that. Give it time, maybe you’ll get to blow up some Death Eater. I’d do anything to knock one senseless. I never really talk about who I’d do it for...Harry, I guess. Hermione, Ron, all of them actually, Luna - I miss her.”  
  
He could only nod.  
  
“I find it interesting that you’re able to only have one person that you’re really doing it for. Most people have multiple reasons, and I’m not saying you don’t, but...you’ve got a main reason.”  
  
Seamus took a breath before replying with another numb nod. “Dean.”  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
_The boy before him was tall, dark, and terribly skinny. Seamus could almost reach out and touch him - if he’d wanted to, which he did - but a door swung open with a loud clang. A figure with a covered face stared at them with vicious malcontent before holding up their wand._  
  
_With a cry, he tried to get in front of the spell before it hit the black man across from him but he was too late. Screams of pain echoed around the dark space. All he could do was stand there and watched the torture commence, and the feeling of helplessness beginning to suffocate him._  
  
_“Stop it! Please!” It felt as though he was crying when in reality that was blood pouring down his face, red and angry, he could hardly see out of his eyes; why were they bleeding?!_  
  
_The hooded figure said nothing in return. Seamus could still hear the agonized screams from the tortured soul. It tore his heart to shreds, he couldn’t do a single thing, there was no way to get to him, the chains were too strong even though he was trying. Not being able to see wasn’t helping the situation._  
  
_A last flash of green cut through the red and Seamus felt his heart nearly tear in two-_  
  
“DEAN!”  
  
It startled him awake and it only took seconds for his eyes to adjust.  
  
Seamus wasn’t actually in a dungeon, and Dean wasn’t actually in front of him. The small break in his mind that came with that realization caused him to wince. But at least Dean wasn’t actually being tortured: Seamus was certain he would never be able to withstand that. In fact, if it ever happened, he would take the punishment. He owed it to Dean.  
  
There was still moonlight pouring in through the windows and into his bed. The bed curtains were not closed because he’d fallen asleep before he could remember to shut them tightly. Neville was definitely awake, the rustling sounds from his bed were enough to tell Seamus he had woken the other boy up. Guilt came crashing in waves. It was his own sick dream. God knows what Neville was dreaming about, worried as he was over Luna.  
  
Letting out a small sigh, he moved from the bed and ducked quickly into the bathroom to avoid getting told that “it was fine” or “don’t mind me, just woken up by my own means” from Neville like he was expecting. This wasn’t the first time a nightmare had happened and he’d screamed and woken up, but it was the first time in front of Neville. The other time had been in the Room of Requirement last month when he’d been stuck in there all weekend.  
  
It wasn’t fine, nor was any lie used as an excuse. Seamus shouldn’t be able to have these dreams. He sure as hell didn’t want them.  
  
The bathroom was dimly lit, but fine to stand in and stare at himself for a short time. Clearing the head and all was terribly useful, and Seamus didn’t really want to see his scars in the mirror again, since he wasn’t wearing any shirt right now. Sometimes the dark was good -- other times, it was bad.  
  
Hooded figures had been showing up everywhere in his dreams lately, but the idea of one torturing and then - he didn’t allow himself to think the word in his mind so he used a substitute - harming Dean _further_...that was new. Dark places weren’t, nor were chains. A constant fear of his was that he’d wake up from a dream like that and he’d be attached to a wall, screams turned to pleading.  
  
Another sigh escaped the Irish lad as he turned from the wall and headed back out, seeing that Neville was probably back asleep again, judging from the snores. At least someone would be getting some sleep tonight. Seamus knew he was about to spend the rest of the night dozing off and quickly waking back up again, as fear would encase him and he would refuse to have another horrible dream. It was, after all, only natural habit at this point.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
“They’re coming!” Anthony came running from one end of the hall. “Quickly, come on!”  
  
Dropping the paintbrush, Seamus tried to pull Lavender away quickly before she could finish writing the words and let them get caught. The brown-haired girl glared at him indignantly, as if this were a time to get angry and start having a stupid argument in the middle of the corridor. Heavy footsteps echoed along the hall’s floors.  
  
The Carrows were catching on by now. Already Neville, Michael, and Parvati had been caught a few nights ago. Patrols had been strengthened significantly, as the students had realized Snape would never have gone on to announce any sort of activity that needed to be stopped was going on and that security measures were going up, simply to avoid any sort of chaos. At least, that’s what the D.A. had figured out.  
  
“Come on, Lav.” He pulled her along after extinguishing his wand.  
  
Lights came around the corner, beaming from the tip of several wands.  
  
“And where do you think you’re going?” Alecto’s voice carried over the short distance. It was too late. “Looky here, boys, this is what you call illegal activities.”  
  
Nods of agreement came from the Slytherin boys beside her, and Seamus seethed when he saw that it was Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. The ‘teacher’ came closer with a curious expression on her face.  
  
“Let’s see...Goldstein, Brown, and - oh of course - Finnigan. How good to see you three, so late at night and past curfew,” if sarcasm could kill, Alecto would have destroyed everyone in that hallway, possibly the entire school, “I do hope you weren’t planning on running away so soon? And what’s this?” There was a distinct point to where Seamus had his hand on Lavender’s wrist. “Cheating so soon, Finnigan?”  
  
He dropped Lavender’s wrist and turned to face Alecto fully. Anthony had come up beside him, an expression on his face that showed he wasn’t worried. It seemed very...Gryffindor-ish of him. Seamus felt a small spark of pride at how much courage everyone in the D.A. really had.  
  
“Better watch what you’re saying, Alecto, or someone will find out what you’ve been doing to some of yer students. Wouldn’t want that getting out, now would we?” It was as good of a sneer as he was capable of.  
  
“Oh, if only you were subject to more of that.” Alecto gave a giggle, and then turned away to look back behind her into the darkness. “Where did you get to, Filch? I thought I told you to stick with us and any student was rightfully yours to take and do what you like with.”  
  
A shuffling noise was heard and the old man appeared, with that same smile that he’d had that day everyone had come back to new rules. Like it was finally Christmas for him. Seamus tried not to let the shudder that tore through him be too visible. The thoughts of what was about to happen to each of them might as well be the last straw for him.  
  
Without another word, Filch beckoned and the “patrol” stood aside as they passed through and followed the man still silently. Seamus made sure to glare at each of those that they passed, wishing he could spit in Alecto’s smug face. They were being led to the dungeons, he knew it. Each moment passed and the growing pile of fear in his stomach was increasing dramatically in size.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  
“I hope you’ve got a good excuse for this, boy.” Filch gave a wheezy laugh as he took away the chair from beneath Seamus’ feet. “You’re gonna be begging in the morning to be let down, and you know what, maybe I’ll consider giving you another piece of my mind then. Till then, good luck.”  
  
There was silence as he watched the man hobble to the door, and turn to shut it, but not without a particularly nasty look shot back at the chained prisoner. Every muscle in both of Seamus’ arms let out a cry in unison all at once. Both wrists were already screaming in pain and it had only just begun.  
  
Being tied to the roof by his wrists wasn’t something Seamus had ever envisioned happening. The thought of chains was even more real now, since he was finally where he’d thought he’d have been ages ago: stuck down with the rats and chained up, probably to be tortured later on.  
  
Small squeaks of pain came from his mouth every now and then as bones started to grate; probably only thirty minutes in now. Time was hard to keep track of without an ounce of outside light to rely on.  
  
They had each been placed in a similar cell, and Seamus had the honor of being placed in the last one of the three in a row. No one else had been down there when they’d arrived. Lavender had shot them a look when she’d been locked inside that clearly said she wasn’t ready to survive this. Seamus had been tempted to tell her it was all her fault for hesitating to leave.  
  
Painting the words “Rebel now!” weren’t exactly all that useful anyways and he hadn’t seen why she wanted to finish them so badly. But he had a heart - at least _mostly_ , still - and so he restrained from saying it to her face. Anthony had begun to look squeamish the minute they’d arrived down there, and he’d worn a face of pure terror as he’d been locked in.  
  
That face would be permanently imprinted into Seamus’ mind for the rest of his life. It had only held resignation, and failure. A student who had been put in the wrong place and was ready to give up.  
  
Seamus hadn’t managed to keep a brave face on while he’d been hung up either, so he wasn’t going to ever say that he’d been the only one not scared or the only one not worried, or anything of the sort. He’d tried to maintain a poker face to make sure Filch didn’t know his true concern.  
  
Blood was now starting to seep down his wrists, and he remembered that one of the most vital veins was actually in his wrist. How _did_ Filch not expect to find three dead bodies hanging in the dungeons being eaten by rats in the morning? Answers to questions were above Seamus’ realm of thought right now. At least he didn’t think it was his most vital vein that had been injured right yet, since there wasn’t a lot of blood. Probably was right around his palm, if he was really analyzing it.  
  
Then would come the muscles screaming and the shoulder joints detaching. Neville had described it with a ghostly look on his face as he lay in the hospital wing the day after. There was something awfully cruel about trying to rip out someone’s limbs. Maybe it was supposed to build character or something unbelievably stupid like that.  
  
Seamus actually let out a chuckle when that thought crossed his mind -- which quickly turned into a low moan of pain. The night was going to be a long one. The hanging might go into the morning, since it was a Friday. Friday the 27th, to be exact. The last day in February. He wished so desperately that he could let Dean know that he had actually survived until this time that something more broke in his heart.  
  
Suddenly the door crashed open again, and Amycus stood in the threshold, looking at him with a grin.  
  
“Oh boy, do I have a bit of a night planned for you, Finnigan. You’re the lucky one, you know. The other two got students to play with them, so they won’t get some of the best beating in their sorry lives like you’re about to.” Seamus gave a small whine of anger and pain, only receiving another laugh from the man. “That’s right. You watch it, eh boy? Watch it and learn.”  
  
What followed was something ramming across his forehead and blood suddenly pouring down into his eyes, a very old wound somehow opening up again - one from the beginning of the year when he’d been rammed into the desk - and blood going down his face once more. A horrible realization dawned on him as he started squirming in pain and screaming as the Cruciatus Curse stretched his bones and limbs out further. He was trapped, with blood blocking his vision, and chained up to a dungeon wall. The only thing missing was the one thing he missed the most -- and that was the only thing Seamus could be grateful of in the minutes upon minutes of torture that followed.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t entirely sure how to describe being under the Imperius Curse was going to go when it was from this type of POV, so I went along with what I assumed. That’s not saying I’m right, I just sort of went with the idea that it would be a loss of control. If the lovely queen bee herself did describe it at some point in the books: please forgive me, it has been far too long since I read the books and while I remember a lot of them...I don’t remember each and every little part and didn’t ever think I was going to need to know how to describe being under Unforgivable Curses when I was last reading them.   
>  (Probably has been far too long since I read them. You know, since like, two years ago. Maybe one. I don’t honestly remember at this point.)  
> Also, mental problems are ever-growing here, mental health becomes part of this story pretty quickly as you may have seen, even if it has been already.   
> And once more, ever-thankful for your previous comments and kudos!


	7. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like to say to all those who have commented and begged for things to get better that things will get better. I do wish I could say that...but...this month isn't much better. I'm afraid things don't start to get any better for this chapter or the next one. After that, there is relief. It's all pain for now, though.

Every muscle, every bone, every joint, was screaming for relief. Each new to-be scar from the whip that ran down both legs in long, twisted lines, had dried blood crusting their surface and still stung. Seamus could feel every other part of his body crying from the excess amounts of _Cruciatus_ that had been applied to it until it felt as though lava had been poured onto him. Both wrists were chock-full of blood -- which had run down every once in awhile in small streams till the areas it hit were brown from the dried blood.  


The worst part was, he was still hanging there. Amycus had left hours ago, maybe a day ago - time wasn’t exactly existent down here - and Seamus was certain he was the last one in the dungeon. There had been sounds of doors clanging open and gasps from the other two cells a while ago. Lavender and Anthony had no doubt been rushed to the hospital wing upon return to their common rooms.  


Now that his height might have actually been improved to at least half a foot taller, the Irish boy was beginning to tire of the constant pull on every part of his body. It absolutely had to be morning by now. Students were up and about; maybe a few were worried about any sort of new rule put up by the Carrows, or others might be more concerned with how they weren’t failing this year or what they would do if they had to repeat it. He hoped to whatever deity that might exist that no one was worried about him.  


For the record, Seamus didn’t want anyone worrying over him at all. Dean could, but as far as he was concerned, that was it, and no one else. And anyways, it was Seamus’ duty to worry about that over Dean -- _it should not be vice versa_ .  


But of course, Ginny and Neville had to have some inkling of an idea about what had happened, and were no doubt trying to figure out a way to save him or take revenge.  


He let out slow mutters every once in awhile to reassure his frantic mind that he was in fact still alive and capable of human speech. Then a muscle would scream and it would start every other muscle screaming until everything was in constant, shuddering pain, right down to the last little toe.  


After such a long time, it was starting to look like he wasn’t going to survive. Any elaborate plan of escape had all but disappeared from his mind since he was completely unable to perform them. Now all that really worked was the continuation of forced breathing.

Shoving the door open with a loud “Bang!”, Filch walked in with a greasy grin. Seamus let out a very small whimper as he saw the old man. Several keys were held out in the man’s fingers.  


“You’re lucky you only got the night and into noon of the next day, boy. It might’ve been a lot worse.” How could this get any worse? But nevermind that now, Filch was here, and he had to act a little stronger than he was actually feeling right now.  


Painstakingly - literally - slowly, Filch raised a key and began undoing the lock on the first chain, then the second. Collapsing to the ground, he was rudely shoved back into reality with a kick from Filch, who signaled that he needed to get out. There was no point in finding out what might happen if he stayed behind.  


Seamus began practically crawling up the stairs that led out. Most of the bones were cracking painfully back into place, but his arms were practically useless, screaming and flailing about; his legs only somewhat worked. Even then, they stumbled a lot and there was a lot of violent cursing.  


“Fucking steps, damn it-” He could have saved breath by not hissing so loudly but there wasn’t any point to that and no one at all could hear him.  


The Slytherins were apparently non-existent as he pulled himself up into and started to laboriously travel along the hallway, then up more stairs. It must have taken him almost an hour.  


The halls were full of students - why they were always full when he was emerging half-dead was beyond his ability to process thoughts currently - returning from lunch. With a heave, he thrust himself up into the busy halls and into a heap on the floor. The sounds of feet screeching to a halt were heard.  


Seamus wanted to apologize to all of the first and second and third years who were far too young to have to witness someone so awful looking, so much blood. He wanted to apologize to the fourth years, who with all of their bumbling awkwardness really were of value but also didn’t deserve this, yet they could shield the eyes of those who were younger. The fifth years needed to be told that this was how you rebelled - since fifth years were commonly known for their ornery stances on life - but that this would come with pain and awful consequences.. The sixth years deserved apology as much as the others did, but maybe with a bit of warning along with it.  


All of these things flashed through his mind as he lay there, shirt disintegrated to nothing, battle scars completely visible and newer ones bright against his pale skin. The lucky thing about it was that his trousers had stayed intact around his thighs where the whip hadn’t touched -- but all below that were red whip lines and non-existent pant legs. None of them deserved this. Seamus knew he didn’t deserve it, but in the back of his mind, he felt like he did, even if it was wrong.  


Despite trying to stay mostly strong, he was overcome by everything. It was all going wrong, still. Everything that was a way to try and improve things only made it worse. His chest began heaving even before he noticed there were tears going down his face.  


Because of dried blood around his eyes, the tears appeared to be blood-red as they coursed down his face.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


That was how Seamus had been found that day.  


Sobbing his eyes out, bloody and heaped on the floor.  


Professors Sprout and Trelawney had been the first teachers to the scene, trying to keep the students away who mostly refused to leave because some were concerned, others interested. They’d both been able to carry him to McGonagall; who had directed them to Pomfrey, even if the poor woman was under a lot of stress right now due to so many others being injured.  


The hospital wing was where and how March had begun. He missed lessons again, lying on the white bed with no idea how or why he was the chosen one for all of this. Neville had come in, Ginny had come in, relieved to find him alive, telling him they’d been worried sick when he hadn’t returned with Lavender.  


Running a hand gently over the covers of the bed, he stared at the floor in silence. The first weekend in March was already turning out to be mild, with nothing to really do. Not that he was able to do anything: Seamus hadn’t been out of the hospital wing for long, and Madame Pomfrey was still wary of anything he tried to do. She was getting to be like a mother hen to him, like he was her ever-injured child.  


He sort of was. Seamus analyzed the floorboards with growing boredom. Always in there, always needing extreme medical attention, always sobbing on the floor…  


Something shiny caught his eye. It was lying mostly underneath the bed -- It hadn’t ever been there before; as if pushed out by an unseen force in the past half-hour.  


Picking it up gently, he observed the metallic colored sketchbook with a sort of keen interest. Dean rarely kept things in Hogwarts; as far as anyone knew, Dean Thomas carried around every piece of his drawing with him anywhere he went. Leaving things behind rarely happened.  


“What’s this? Yeh left me a present?” He said to nobody. In reply there was only silence.  


Turning it over so the cover faced skywards - and revealed nothing to the world, an unmarked book - he ever so gently opened it. The first image was brightly colored: time had indeed been spent on it. For a moment it was hard for his eyes to adjust to, and then - a gasp escaped his lips.  


“Oh...Dean…”  


The image, in all its splendor, portrayed himself.  


Every little detail was beautifully done. The colors were almost the exact colors his skin and his face and his hair and his eyes were, and the colors of the bed he sat in were all exactly as in real life. It did not move, yet it might as well have been.  


He was lying on his bed, holding a book and sprawled out. There was nothing covering his chest. Seamus knew this was an image drawn right then and there, he even remembered the day he’d been sitting like this, just last year. In the picture, his eyes were peering ever so gently up at the artist, although pretending to look at the book.  


That was how it had been all that damned afternoon: Dean was sitting across from him against the wall with his drawing pad, yet every time Seamus tried to look up to catch a glimpse, he’d quickly look back down again because Dean drawing would arouse anyone who had any sense. Heat surged up his cheeks as he realized Dean had in fact managed to catch a little bit of the effect in between his sprawled legs as well.  


“Yeh remember that day?” he breathed in again, forcing the tears away, “Yeh’d broken up with Ginny almost three weeks ago...we were doing so well, too. I’d finally accepted me feelings for ya, well, ages before that, but I couldn’t ever tell you at that point in time. All afternoon, yeh teased me that I couldn’t ever stay still, so I proved it too ya by pulling out that damned book, and damn us all if you didn’t manage to capture that exact position and precision with every last bit of your energy.”  


The thought struck him that Dean had for some reason saved that first page for last. Clearly this sketchbook was in fact covered in pictures, for he could feel every last one of them weighing down in his hands -- but one spot had been saved for a masterpiece. It looked like it was practically breathing like any normal wizarding picture would.  


“Ya might’ve taken it with ya...you knew, didn’t ya? That’s why you left this sketchbook. ‘Cause you knew somethin’ might happen after Dumbledore died. And yet, this one picture...you shoulda taken it.” There was an unseen nod in agreement, although Seamus knew it was there. _He_ could see it. _He_ could feel it.  


“Thank you.” Through all the vain attempts, he finally let the tears flow, and was careful not to let any touch the picture. “Thank you.”  


The rest of the sketchbook could always be saved for later.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


“Well, I hope I never have to see his ugly face ever again.” Ginny sat down with a force that shook the bench. She wore a face of resignation, and Seamus didn’t blame her, since talking to Zacharias Smith did require a lot of energy; and it rarely worked. “He’s going to have to deal with the consequences of not wanting to do what’s right _someday_ , I suppose.”  


“What’s he saying?”  


“Oh, the usual. You know, ‘can’t do that it’s against school rules’ and everything else that marks him as a coward,” Seamus saw Neville nodding slowly as he chewed the end of his quill. “I can’t believe he ever joined in fifth year anyway, he was always running away in terror like a dog with his tail between his legs.”  


“Well, I guess we know who to count out of any battles.” He said it with a finality that hopefully they picked up on.  


It went quiet after that. They’d been sitting in the common room all day now, planning and talking. Seamus had suggested on the occasion that moving around was always a good thing. Only Neville had nodded slowly -- Ginny had gone right on talking. When she had left to have her little conversation, any motivation to leave had left him after she threatened to hex him to the chair. Ginny Weasley was a wonder with hexes. Every kid in Hogwarts knew not to stray into her path when she felt the need to pull out her wand and try something new on someone.  


Students had passed through occasionally. A few D.A. members had even dropped in with ideas.  


The only problem Seamus had with it was clear, simple, yet couldn’t get through anyone’s skull apparently. _Sundays were not supposed to be spent doing work._ They were meant for lazing around, or in his case, maybe trying and lying down all day to avoid opening any injuries up again.  


Pomfrey had been on his trail because he’d been “too active” the other day and had nearly ripped open his wrists again. At the moment, death was quite an enticing idea. If only Ginny would let him go die in a corner somewhere, then maybe he could come back as a ghost to help plan and avoid any more beating or fighting himself.  


“I think, being as it’s dinner time, we should all go down an’ try an’ forget ourselves for a bit. About this. It’s getting a bit boring, don’t yeh agree?” They turned twin glares on him for what must have been the one hundredth time that very day. “Sorry I mentioned it.”  


“If we were to cover that room with various charms, before they got in there, maybe setting them off wouldn’t be so difficult.”  


The D.A. was back to saving kids from detention for the most part now. After what had happened to _him_ , there was no need to try and get away with painting the walls. Seamus sort of agreed. He wasn’t actually able to walk all that well right now, but he still didn’t want to try and run around after some first years.  


Neville turned to him, “I know we can’t actually get you in on this since...but do you happen to know any good spells for blowing up a wall or two?”  


“You’re not tearing down this castle anymore than ‘m going to be getting off me bum a lot for a while, Longbottom,” it was the truth, he didn’t want them taking down any walls or ceilings, that was asking for too much, “but I can hook ya up with a few Muggle things. I sort of...found out ‘bout them one day and I was hoping to use a few of them sometime. He told me a few of the things people use. Sort of creative, really, a bit like magic.”  


A nod meant a good thing.  


“But they blow up large rocks and stuff with it. ‘M not letting yeh have that sort of reign. That’s more battle-worthy. Figure out some explosive spells yourself.” He didn’t mean to get quite so defensive, but it was a hard to talk about. The day he’d discovered dynamite hadn’t been exactly a wonderful day.  


_“Shay, I don’t think you should be allowed to have that much power. Are you sure you weren’t meant to be a Muggle pyrotechnic and not a wizard?” The soot on Dean’s face was hardly noticeable anyway, but he didn’t try and point it out._  


_“Look, me mam always told me what I got was special.” He smirked, and watched the wide smile grow over the black boy’s face_ .  


_“Fine,” Dean began scraping the ashy food off of the burner, “but remind me never to let you come to my house and cook ever again.”_  


_“Next time, you can get some of that...whatever yeh call it.”_  


_“Take-out?” With a valiant effort to save his dignity, he kicked Dean in the leg, but that only resulted in a long arm reaching out and pulling him up against the taller man. “Don’t try and get away with that sort of thing. You know kicking is not a way of defense.”_  


_He felt lips brush against his ear, and he felt a tremor go through him. Before Dean could try anything else, he flipped himself around and buried his head in Dean’s broader chest._  


_Talking about his mother hurt. Everything hurt nowadays. The hand rubbing along his back told him that Dean was okay with it. The breaking down part of life had been constant: constant tears, and continuous attempts with trying to explain that it was all wrong but not knowing which was the most wrong._  


_“You know, you would really like this thing Muggles have called dynamite. You’re a bit like it, actually.” Having heard of dynamite but never having gotten quite what it was, he inquired further and got a nice long explanation on the stuff; without even having to really explain why he wanted to know about it._  


I do think that evacuation needs to be worked out faster this time.” Neville’s loud announcement snapped him out of his mind, and he flicked his head up. “There we go. Don’t fade off, Seamus. I know you’re tired, we all are, but you need to stay in this realm.”  


Before he could make any sort of explanation, they were going on again, this time about the actual students they were to be rescuing. It was time to succumb to another heroic adventure. In truth, the novelty of heroic adventures was starting to really wear off.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


“...our listeners of the murder of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.” Any little chatter stopped talking for the moment, as people took in the news. Seamus saw Neville lower his head as another death was listed, some goblin named Gornuk. “...believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas-”  


For the moment there was a great silence within the room as every eye turned to him. Whispers suddenly broke out in swarms, but he held up a shaking hand to hear the last few words of the sentence, a lump growing in his throat.  


“-may have escaped. If Dean is listening, your parents and sisters are pretty desperate for news.”  


If anything else was said, he never heard it. Glass shards seemed to have impaled his lungs as he gasped for air. His sight went black. _Everything_ was gone.  


Normally, a person who had just heard news about someone they dearly cared about for the first time in months would have been joyful. All that came with this news was the feelings of dread and utter devastation.  


He had half a mind to tell Fred - or George, whomever it was - to also mention that someone dear to Dean was desperate as well, but that thought was very brief, and gone before he could really get a grip on it. Around him, the D.A. continued to stare and mutter softly.  


As things crashed down even further at the realization of what this meant, Seamus stood up quickly. Trembling with fear, anger, and the desperation that one got when they absolutely needed to do something, he began walking towards the door.  


They were going to pay for what they had done. It was all their fault. Dean was on the run in the first place because of people like the Carrows. Not to mention, probably the Carrows themselves as individuals. Dean was now somewhere - maybe a dungeon, he didn’t know - trapped, lost, possibly already gone. There was no telling what may have happened in the hours between the report and the actual announcement.  


Before he could get to the door, a familiar flash of red hair came to a stop in front of him, eyes gentle and soft.  


“You’re not going anywhere.” Ginny’s voice contradicted the message portrayed by her eyes. “Stay in here, Seamus. I don’t want you trying to break the Carrows now.”  


“They did this.” Through the blinding anger, he heard a small voice of reason, but chose to ignore it. They would suffer for what they had done.  


“Seamus. You are staying in here.” He pushed forward, ramming her against the door with some newfound strength, glaring at her and shaking his head.  


“Absolutely not.”  


“Get off of her.” Arms were suddenly wrapped around his waist; the voice and limbs belonged to Neville. It was hard to push away from them as he was carried away from Ginny and the door. “Calm. Breathe, Seamus. You need to breath.”  


“Let me out! ‘M gonna find ‘em and make ‘em bleed!” Snarling, he tried to rip the arms from around his chest.  


Neville continued to hold onto him, “No. Sit down, Seamus.”  


“They’re gonna fucking pay for what they’ve done! Let me go!” He screamed at Neville.  


“You’re not bashing in anyone’s head or setting anyone on fire tonight, Shay.”  


“DON’T CALL ME THAT.” By lifting his foot up toward the inside of his knee, he got Neville right in the thigh and was released, moving forward to face the other who was slightly crouched down in pain now. “Damn it, that’s not yer name ta use! Don’t ever fucking call me that!”  


Turning to face the wall, he wished he could say he had an elaborate plan to kill the Carrows and maybe change everyone’s minds. That wasn’t going to happen at all. People were staring in wonder now, probably questioning the authority he had to tell anyone something so harsh. That wasn’t anyone else’s name to use. It was _Dean’s_ nickname for him, and only Dean’s.  


Before anything else could be done, he plunged forward and tried to push his way through them. Someone caught him again before the seemingly massive wall could be broken.  


With a wail, he was forced onto a chair and in a vain attempt to get back up again, found that his arms were now pinned down by the Creevey brothers, who looked a bit scared but seemed to be holding onto all of their courage.  


Any other time he might’ve been proud of them. But now -- now it was a choice between life and death. They couldn’t hold him down, he’d prove it. Prying their hands away from his arms, he came to standing, only to be met with the entire D.A. in a human wall before him.  


“Get out of me way!” He couldn’t push past Goldstein and Boot, they were too strong, too tall; and strategically placed directly in front of him.  


“Seamus, please,” Ginny was standing in front of him as the two boys held him back, “You can’t go rushing blindly to the Carrows and hex them where they stand. They’d kill you.”  


“Better they ‘ave to live with the revenge for that than what they’ve already done!”  


“Keep breathing and stop talking. You’re too worked up anyways, any spell would backfire.” She probably did mean that literally, but these were the people who had been the cause of every inch of suffering since school had started. Before school had started.  


Tears started to collect at his eyes and he let out another anguished wail before sagging into the arms that held him. Revenge was all he could think about. They needed it, they had asked for it. Dean was officially _missing_ now.  


It wasn’t something he had made up to make it safer for Seamus, or anyone he was close to. It was reality. Dean Thomas had simply disappeared from the world, and Seamus’ heart had gone with him, to wherever he was now. If he was being tortured -- the thought caused him to break out into a sob. Someone was nervously running their hands up and down his arms in an attempt for comfort.  


The image of being the strongest kid in the school sure wasn’t doing anything right now. Seamus hadn’t cried in front of anyone but Neville that year. He’d made sure he hadn’t. It could mean risking a questioning by the Carrows if word got around.  


Now as he sat there in the chair, sobbing his eyes out over news that he was completely unable to prevent and that was sure to destroy him forever, only soft sets of eyes with not a single whisper to be heard.  


“See? Breathing is good.” Ginny’s voice had gone soft now, as she handed him a handkerchief from someone. All he could do was shake his head. It wasn’t good. It meant crying and crying was something he was really good at.  


It meant ignoring what was happening and he couldn’t do that. All those months he’d spent, hoping Dean was safe. Now that Dean had been -- _had been_ . That was over now.  


“Dean...Ginny, he’s-”  


“I...I know, shh. Don’t talk about it now…” she looked at him sympathetically.  


“They got ‘im.” He gasped out. “They got ‘im, and it’s all me fault.”  


There had been a few mutters in the last few seconds -- but now it went silent. Maybe some of them had heard that he had slipped up in the last official detention he’d been in. None of them were aware of what the context of the slip-up had been.  


Neville stepped forward, coming to his knees before the cot, apparently he was forgiven for earlier actions, or maybe not, “Don’t you dare say that, Seamus, it’s not your fault at all.”  


“I...told them ‘e was on the run an’ now-” he let out a watery gasp, despite his attempts to hold things down, “now they got ‘im.”  


“The Carrows had nothing to do with it, Seamus, and if they did, it’s like I told you, there’s hundreds of Muggleborns on the run.” The repeated words from Neville didn’t comfort him in the least.  


“No, no they had everythin’ to do with it -- and they are going to pay, ye-yeh hear me?”  


“Stay seated.”  


The rest of the D.A. seemed to have faded into the background during the argument. Now he fixed them with something like a glare. A few people appeared to be backing away slowly, yet Seamus didn’t intend to scare them. He wanted someone else to understand the predicament that he was in now, and they had to be the only ones who might possibly be able to. God, if he could know what Dean was thinking now…  


“They aren’t going to help you, Seamus.” Ginny had read his mind. “We can’t risk something like that. And they...wouldn’t understand why we did it to any of them.”  


“That’s just it, isn’t it? Yeh never going to understand.” He said, turning on her. “No one understands! They never do, an’ they never will, and ya don’t know what yer saying when ya try and say it’s going to be alright, ‘cause you don’t know that! It isn’t proven fact; nothing is going to be okay now, and yeh gonna make the excuse that no one understands?! A fact we already know. A fact I had to come to terms with getting heah on that train by myself, on the first day of school!”  


Voice rising to a scream, he rose to his feet, tearing away from the two who tried to grab at him. The damage had been done fair and square. With a shake of the head, he pushed through the crowd who tried to block him and pounded the door open, storming out with the force of a hurricane.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


Settling into his seat, he saw glances being thrown his way by everyone else in the class, - even the Slytherins this time - yet again. A day later and somehow people already knew something had gone wrong. The D.A. had been mostly secretive about the episode, in fact, Ginny had held them to the context of the D.A. oath, but it didn’t stop them from letting people know an event was to happen.  


The details weren’t out; and for that he was grateful. Alecto already looked like she wanted to murder him anyway. Knowing that he’d blown up because of news of Dean would give her far more excuses for her actions. She probably knew anyways -- if the Death Eaters had some form of communication.  


Slytherins paying him any mind, now _that_ was new. They rarely paid any attention to him even if he was standing up and speaking out in class. Draco seemed to be prepping to win a sneer competition. The large number of them that he had been throwing at the Gryffindors - particularly _Seamus_ \- all year had been far too many to count. Yet now, the familiar sneer was accompanied by a knowing look, as if he knew more than the average classmate.  


“Good morning, class.” There was a mutter from the Slytherins in reply. “I see we’ve all brought our attention with us this...fine hour. I understand that you are all moody teenagers, but this simply seems rather...odd.”  


He glowered in his seat. The _idea_ that this woman was part of the reason every feeling inside of him was raging fire was the most maddening thought in the world at the moment.  


“It appears some of us are more angry about...life, than others,” her eyes had found his no-doubt very frustrated face, “I do not like to teach with problems in the air above us. Does anyone care to share why they are feeling the way they are currently?”  


It was very clearly a snare, but a snare worth getting into. What it consisted of concerned everything Seamus had decided that day he’d targeted Alecto and her brother permanently. This had to be dealt with, and because she was now asking for it indefinitely, he was going to take the chance, and pass with flying colors.  


Standing up with a small amount of shaking, he stared her down. Moments ticked by as she stared back at him with that nice smug look on her face.  


“It always humors me that Finnigan has the first and last thing to say to me. It’s like he cares.” The glare he sent her at that caused a look of surprise to flash across her face. Neville tried to signal to him from his seat across the room that arguing wasn’t worth it, while Lavender tried to pull on his robes, but Seamus ignored them both.  


“I find it funny that everything you say or do concerns with the well-being of yourself and yourself only.”  


“Might I ask why the attack this morning? Or should I go along with it like every one before?” When there was no reply, she slammed her fist down on the desk before her. “Answer me, boy. What’s going on and why do you look angry?”  


“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re doing things we don’t know about, an’ those things are hurting others. Maybe it’s because all year long, ‘ve stood here and taken all the-the shit yeh’ve said about Muggles, Muggleborns, me in particular, other people...Ya just never learn, do ya?” He stepped away from the desk, “Every day, yer coming up with some stupid excuse as to why things happen in the world, when we know it’s all ‘cause of you an’ your type of people.”  


Alecto gave a sneer, “Some of those things said were well-deserved of those who received them.”  


“I don’t care. Look what you’ve done. People are sufferin’, because of yeh -- yeh listened to me and look what happened. I say one thing and suddenly the entire world is lopsided because you gotta go and ruin it for me.” With each passing moment, the temptation to say “take Dean for example” was growing in his mind. Seamus still wanted to have that explosive feeling that came with taking his anger out on someone.  


Alecto had a smile on her face -- and it hit him. She knew exactly what he was talking about without saying it - the Death Eaters could very well communicate - and no doubt she knew more about the situation than he did.  


“Ah, the words of a lost man. To say I don’t know what brought on this outrage was silly of me, I realized I knew before you started really going off.” Alecto stalked up to where he stood, then stood close enough that he could nearly smell her breath as she gazed down at him. “He’s not safe, Finnigan. What are you going to do about that? What will you do about your poor - probably half-dead Mudblood? What are you going to do?”  


The threat was brimming with evidence. Alecto knew what had happened - or knew more, as it would seem - and was going to force it in, hard. She took pleasure in things like this; always had, obviously. A soft spot had opened up and she was filling it in quite nicely. The possibilities felt life-threatening to him.  


“You really thought we wouldn’t take into consideration what you’ve said? We did, and we got what we wanted out of it, although I wouldn’t say we really had too much to do with the actual _action_ part of it.” She raised her voice so students could hear. “I’m sure you’d like to tell them what happens when you lose someone...close to you…”  


“Shut it.” He had to squeeze his eyes shut to force the tears back as his heart clawed wildly at his chest, begging to be let out to break on the floor. “Stop. You don’t have any sort of proof or - or even a good idea of what took place.”  


“I wish I could say the same to you in that same _forceful_ tone of voice, but, seeing as I know every little detail of it, I’m completely unable to. We finally got you back, Finnigan. All of those times...you set him up for this. And yourself, I might add.”  


At this point, the seemingly stunned audience of students were all leaning in to hear what they were saying. Seamus wanted to tell all of the Gryffindors to bugger off since they were fully aware of what had happened, and all of the Slytherins to bugger off because they didn’t need to know. No one did - and here Alecto was, forcing it out into the open. She was merely tearing the gash in his heart open even farther as she continued to talk about Dean without mentioning his name; saying things most people wouldn’t have dared to.  


“You’re truly convinced he is still safe, aren’t you? I pity your innocence. Why hide yourself in those lies when you could face the truth?”  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


Every minute in that class would be a memory pasted into Seamus’ brain that he didn’t ever want find again. Now with it all across his forehead that evening, he’d retired to the corner of the couch in the common room. The argument wasn’t something he was proud of, nor would he ever be, because it was weak, unsupported, and had ended rather badly. Alecto had been left laughing as he’d exited the room in a fury.  


No one in Gryffindor blamed him.  


They were all aware of the situation that had occurred - the one exception to the oath of the D.A. - yet they were never to talk about it to anyone else. Instead, whispers floated around as the students continued their daily procedures. Glances were thrown and assumptions were made; yet they all seemed to agree that what had been done was at least somewhat right.  


“Hey, Seamus.” Lavender sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “You should know that there’s a special offer on Wizard Wheezes merchandise from Ginny who collected a ton from her brothers, at least, I think. She’s got a lot in there.”  


A weak attempt at conversation, but weak seemed to be his thing right now, “Well cool.”  


“You know, I sort of wish the weather would warm up already,” it wasn’t just a weak attempt, it was an actual attempt at normal conversation now, “some people already considered simply jumping into the lake and asking for it to warm up with some crazy notion it would instantly be hot. I wish they’d give it a try. Then I’d have an excuse to lie around all day. Parvati wanted to know if you’d be up for a game later? We’re getting a small group together for the evening.”  


“I-um-uh, well...sure.” With each topic switching so quickly - this was normal for a conversation with Lavender - he had a hard time keeping up with it since a headache seemed to have manifested itself permanently in his head; he also wasn’t sure how well a little “get-together” would go right now under the current state of life.  


“Great, well, I’ll go tell her that we’ve got another person. Be prepared to face some daunting tasks!” Lavender smiled. She was gone almost as quickly as she had appeared, weaving her way through the small clumps in the common room to find her next victim.  


Seamus found something endearing to Lavender that others didn’t. He was fully aware that most people hated her simply because of her personality, which did turn snappish and snobbish at times, yet she wasn’t a horrible person. They’d had their problems, and that was normal of friends. When she’d dated Ron, well, Seamus had been dealing with his own problems at that time (worried sick about his relationship with Dean deteriorating because of Ginny’s interference) and hadn’t focused on the couple enough to have anything worth saying about it.  


Hell, “the couple” were definitely not a problem in his life that year -- Seamus hadn’t minded them as much as he’d minded the other couple getting in the way of his time with Dean. Lavender was just...out-going. And could be sweet if she tried -- not that she tried all that often and it never came off nicely.  


“I heard it all. Good luck escaping some horrible task this evening. I myself am fearing the consequences.”  


“The day’s been long enough already, Neville, I don’t need ya to remind me that I gotta keep going, she just did that.” He motioned to where Lavender had disappeared.  


“Oh, I know.” Neville looked in the direction, then sat down. “Look, she’s trying to get your mind off of everything. We are all trying to pry our minds from what’s going on, so Parvati came up with the plan and well...Lavender executed it quite nicely. She should go ahead and invite all of Gryffindor, but for some reason she was trying to keep it secret from the younger kids. Like they don’t deserve a break too.”  


“Neville, have ya ever considered not trying to use the same attempts of reconciliation that people have already tried?” Glaring a little bit, he shifted in his position.  


“Sorry. It’s just...you look like shit, Seamus.”  


“Well, I heard that having one’s heart shattered tends ta do that.” Seamus tried to layer on the sarcasm, but it was hard when he was more or less telling the truth.  


“I...yeah. I guess it does.” One of the few awkward silences they’d had all year followed the sentence. Then- “Well...maybe you can drown your troubles in liquor tonight.”  


“That’s the Irish way, mate.” He offered it as a bit of a joke, and both he and Neville let tiny smiles play across their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also will thank all those who have left kudos and comments! Both are greatly appreciated and push me to uploading faster (I swear)!  
> Next chapter should be out sooner than this one was.


	8. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst, you can berate me all you'd like, because I'm in debt to everyone who has been waiting when it comes to updating. I apologize, but here it is, so please, enjoy.  
> Also, please note that I usually prefer to stay mostly canon with the characters and what happens to them, but in this chapter, I changed a detail that I saw as possibly being canon, or possibly not. It's minor in the grand scheme of HP in general, but it's huge for this story and simply adds to the angst and pain of the poor character (once again, sorry, not sorry).

“I’ve never seen such a gloomy Easter day,” the sound of footsteps echoing off the floor in the once-silent dorm room caused him to quickly slam the sketchbook closed, and look up to see Neville looking at him curiously. “What’s that?”  


“Nothing.”  


“Looks like a sketchbook to me.” The tall boy sat down beside the Irish, who was feeling rather indignant to show it to anyone else.  


“And so what if it is?” Seamus spat back, regretting the harshness only a little bit at the sight of Neville’s face after his retort.  


“I...nothing, nevermind.”  


“What were ya going on about? Easter and all?” The topic needed to stay off of the beautiful sketchbook.  


Neville continued on about how the day was awfully gloomy -- and not only outside. There was some formidable essence in the air, or so he said there was, like everyone was waiting for something terrible to happen. Every student had been jumpy since breakfast, Seamus had noticed that very well.  


He’d just been about to open the sketchbook for the second time in weeks now, having had no time previously to get to it, and _of course_ he had been interrupted. He shouldn’t have stayed staring at that first picture for so long, but oh, how it captured his eyes and his heart.  


The whole morning had been too dreary to bear and retreating to the dorm had felt almost wonderful. A good feeling had entered his mind upon arrival; and good feelings were so hard to come by, Seamus had almost wanted to deny it existed as soon as he felt it.  


“I’ve got chocolate hidden under my bed, you’re free to have it, mate.” Neville had quit his rant about how kids needed more motivation and how every day seemed like a drag now that they didn’t have D.A. meetings during the long break, now standing up, looking back down at him. “I think you’ll welcome it. I had to smuggle it in, though, from me family of course…”  


Family was a tough word for anyone. Neville was still suffering from the effects of his gran being attacked -- even now, Seamus would lie awake at night hearing the other man whimper in his sleep in his bed, loud enough that it was quite obvious he was calling for his guardian. It made Seamus feel terrible every night that he heard it, and it was at least 4 out of 7 nights a week.  


“Yeah...I’ll try it. Might be good to have.” He nodded.  


“Agreed. I’ve got to go meet Lavender in the common room, but...if you need anything else, just ask.” Neville was gone before he could reply and say that simply assuming he was helpless was the last thing that he needed.  


Turning to the sketchbook again, Seamus felt his heart jump around a little bit. Slowly, carefully, he once more opened it, to the second page this time. It was as glorious as he’d anticipated.  


The picture wasn’t colored this time, simply a sketch, but it was still gorgeous in it’s own way. There he was, standing with his wand up in the air. Something was sparking out of it - it looked sort of like a gleam of, if wind could be drawn, wind - and he had this goofy grin on his face. Backgrounds were non-existent apparently; as if that mattered. He knew exactly where this was.  


The Room of Requirement, the first and last D.A. meeting he’d been in, 5th year. It was clearly drawn from memory, because Dean hadn’t been holding a sketchbook during the meeting. And Seamus was so obviously doing the Patronus spell.  


“God damnit, you can make something breath even with just a pencil an’ no color.” Feeling the edges of the pages softly, he gave a soft nod. “It’s practically moving.”  


A quiet voice echoed in his mind, a reply of “Yes, like you.” The voice wasn’t a new thing, it had started around a week ago, and Seamus didn’t really know what to think of it. Maybe a side effect of the Cruciatus Curse was finally showing up after all this time... But it didn’t really bug him, even if the voice didn’t actually sound much like Dean. Hell, how was anyone supposed to remember what that gorgeous, deep voice sounded...there was then the moment where he stopped breathing.  


Of course he remembered what Dean sounded like. The deep throated chuckle that was always emitted when Seamus did something stupid. No, that wasn’t what he’d forgotten. What he’d forgotten was what Dean’s face looked like when he smiled or laughed…  


“Hell. Fucking hell…” The picture was almost fake looking: a smile like that didn’t seem possible anymore. The phantom image slowly shifted back and forth, wand waving slightly, as tears slowly filled all vision.  


  
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News travels fast in Hogwarts, it’s practically one of the talents all wizards and witches are born with (at least that was his theory) to be able to gossip like the world was going to end, so it came as no surprise when the following morning brought whispers and stares at the new empty spot at the Gryffindor table. Seamus had tried to avoid talking to people on the way down for fear they would tackle him with questions, but now he simply wanted Neville to get down here and save his sorry ass.  


The teacher’s table was especially moody looking - he took note of this while trying to drag away any notion of all the attention aimed at him - with McGonagall watching the students with more resignation on her face than he’d ever seen held on one face before. Most of the other teachers had similar expressions, aside from the Carrows who were calmly observing the students -- and Snape, with his usual sneer held on tight.  


Throughout the past year, watching the teacher’s table had basically been the same every day. Seamus couldn’t wait till he saw that the Carrows’ seats were empty and Snape was being faced down by the ghost of Dumbledore or something -- there went his mental state again.  


“Mate, snap out of it,” Neville had finally arrived; snapping his fingers in front of the Irish boy’s face quickly. “They won’t bug you now. I’m here.”  


“Took yeh long enough.” Glares were a particularly useful thing when it was the perfect opportunity for them.  


“Sorry...I wasn’t aware that people were going to be so - staring so much.”  


At approximately 6 AM when everyone realized what had happened over break because a certain student hadn’t come back yet, and that she wasn’t coming back at all, it had spread like wildfire -- the same color as the person’s hair, Seamus thought.  


Ginny Weasley had not returned from her spring break, and as far as it was known, she might never return.  


The last Weasley had finally disappeared from the school. As far as Seamus was concerned, that was about to absolutely destroy pretty much everything. Which, of course, included their bodies. Amycus was already probably on the case, as he might not even know where Ginny was -- yet. The chances of her having been captured could be raised soon.  


“They’ll ask questions, all of ‘em, everyone.” Voices change in different situations, and he was struck with the sudden realization that his own voice had sunk down into a dismal broken thing with little expression. Neville was suffering from the same thing; and now the tall boy would be the one announcing things at whatever they did for the D.A. meetings.  


“We’ll find a way to make it.”  


What little hope remained was slowly fading as everything slowly dawned on them. That morning had been a frantic one, what with the common room whispering about it at every corner, and the students in the Great Hall already talking frantically about it. Ginny wasn’t the only one missing, either, and that was part of it.  


“Malfoy didn’t return either. Most think he went and joined You-Know-Who already,” Colin Creevey had suddenly appeared and Seamus blinked and shook his head slightly, wondering how a person could come out of nowhere like that.  


Neville nearly choked on the egg in his mouth, “He didn’t?”  


“No, not to anyone’s knowledge. He didn’t return from home.”  


  
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“Dean…” It was a summoning, a plea to hear that voice again. That voice was practically gone; so was every image. Seamus tried to bring it back, but on the cold classroom floor, he couldn’t conjure up any fond images. A cackle resounded around the room.  


“I’m glad you could make it tonight, I was scared you’d have homework…” Alecto purred gently, flicking her wand near his face. The very visible flinch made her cackle again, like always. “I know I’ve already done some work on you, but that was simply to warm up. I wanted you to come in prepared.”  


“Please…”  


A leg appeared in front of his eyes and he felt a foot meet his stomach area, “Begging doesn’t get you anywhere, sweets. You all of all people know that.”  


After the fateful class where he’d basically screamed at Alecto, a detention was only to be expected. Hell, she’d been hinting at in class since they’d gotten back from break. Now here he was again with his back to floor and his eyes squeezed shut. Pain radiated from every inch of his body -- the wounds from his torture in March were opening up slowly with every new kick.  


“Now, I was going to make this detention simply for fun...but now I have to ask you: where is the girl?”  


“N-No idea.” He stuttered bitterly. He’d expected this.  


“Answer me, boy,” the sound of something sliding out of a case came to his ears, and he froze up a bit, “now.”  


Never in a million years had he expected a whip to feel quite like it did now. She’d made him take his shirt off again - an action that had been repeated on some previous times with the whip as well, there had always been plenty of other side detentions - and she’d been specific in making sure he wore thin pants. Even after all of the times the whip had been introduced to his body, every nerve was standing on end as the first hit was received and a whimper escaped his mouth.  


“Oh come on, haven’t we repeated this process before? You know what happened last time you tried to keep something from me.” There was a new bright red stain on the area of his calf on his pants where the whip fell for the second time. Dean…”We got it out of you anyways...and you failed to protect him, didn’t you?”  


“St-stop…” All fight had left his body, all argument sounded weak.  


“You don’t like hearing about him, do you? It hurts? Let me tell you something. Love hurts. I don’t know much about it, but from what I’ve heard, it’s agony and - you’re living that right now, aren’t you? But when your love is wrong...oh that’s the worst type...fag…” she let the whip fall slowly onto his bare chest -- and again, and again, and again, until crying out was too painful because breathing was impossible.  


Daring to open an eye, he saw her usual twisted grin: nothing ever changed about that.  


Alecto let out a low cackle, “You thought you’d survive this year; and you might have if you had been a good kid, Finnigan. But you didn’t. Maybe you had your reasons…”  


The last thing he heard before passing out as a large wave of pain ran through his chest was a loud scream of a cackle.  


  
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_Eyes of a deep brown met with his, searching his own face. They echoed with lust, but also fear, as if what they were doing was nearly too much to handle at once. A hand was curved around his head, another at his hips. They totally knew what they were doing. Seamus had no doubt this was the normal fear that you always felt when you were going to start heavily making out with someone for maybe the first time in your life. He’d felt it before, but now the fear was a little more than your average pre-make-out stage -- so the fear in those eyes was only to be expected._  


_Slowly he reached up to meet those soft, open lips. A moan escaped one of them as the kiss became far more passionate. The feeling of legs being intertwined and the hand on the hip gripping harder was enough to signal thousands of little shocks._  


_“We won’t regret this, I promise you.” It had been the last little thing he’d uttered as they’d sat in the bed that was normally just Seamus’; but tonight, tonight it was Dean’s too._  


_“And how do you know that?”_  


_The kiss was saying “I just do” over and over again. It echoed with every feeling that had ever been there, for however long they’d been present. Another feeling hit Seamus as he was busy trying to figure out if his hands felt better around Dean’s neck or maybe on those arms: the feeling of bare chest against bare chest, bare legs, even. They had been stripped down to boxers a while ago, but this was something different because now every inch of the tall man’s body was on his in some manner._  


_It was every dream come true. Even the hot summer air wasn’t going to distract any bit of this, or the fact that the lights in the room were - in fact - on. The door was closed, that’s all that truly mattered._  


_The instant in which breathing became absolutely necessary was quite a shock. He was lying on top of Dean now, gazing gently down at those beautiful cheekbones._  


_“I would’ve done this sooner if I’d known how good of a snogger you are.” Soft the remark was, yet not without a dab of humor._  


_“Yeh did. This is just the best of it.”_  


_Before anything else could be said or done, they met in the middle again, colliding more frantically this time as everything became more solid, rougher. Dean’s hands now rested against his back, pulling him in further. Seamus had managed to place his on that face that he loved so very much._  


_“Dean…” Moaning, he opened his mouth to see if Dean would take the incentive and move his tongue in, which he did. Tongues were one of those things you had to be experienced in, and Dean certainly was._  


_Pleasure was all that followed. The very world could have been exploding around him and everything would have been fine because he was snogging Dean Thomas harder than he’d ever snogged anyone in his life._  


_There was more grappling with tongues, but as soon as he moved off Dean’s mouth and down to the graciously smooth neck and collarbones below, any thought of returning to the small battles was lost as Dean let out small moans and whimpers._  


_He kept going down - as if the world depended on it - and he made sure to cover every inch of the lean body before him with his lips. Making it worthwhile as well as slow and painful for the person receiving the “torture” was the key to everything._  


_“Get back up here…” Dean pulled his head back up to meet lips again, once Seamus had reached the very edges of his boxers, and they were soon rolling around on the bed._  


_It had to have been at least a few hours by the time they found that all they could do was lie there beside each other, panting heavily, arms still entwined and small smiles laid across their lips. Seamus had never thought anything so fortunate would happen to him. The only thing that made this better was the smile that was practically dripping off Dean’s face, because he had just done something he truly would never regret. Seamus already knew that without being told._  


The words “the best of it” rolled around in his mind as he continued to squeeze his eyes shut, unwilling to open them. It would never be the best of it, the best of it would be if he ever survived this damn year and if Dean did too. He’d give that man the best snog in the world if he could see him right now.  


“Seamus?” Neville broke him from his thoughts and his memories and everything else he was holding close now. “Are you finally awake, mate?”  


Truthfully he’d been awake for a good while now and had pushed it to the back of his mind as he kept his eyes closed. In the air was the familiar smell of potions and ingredients, and clean sheets. Infirmaries were still a truly mysterious thing.  


“You can keep your eyes closed. I’m not going to force you to do anything. I’m sorry, mate...for all of this. We thought you might not make it for real this time. You don’t know any of what happened after you passed out, I bet, but we figured it out -- well, Alecto proudly told the whole damn school…” Shit. “She kicked you around like a doll, Seamus. Beat you this way and that. Broke and fractured plenty of bones, even managed to shatter your right wrist...punctured both lungs before the end of it, and sliced you in the eye as well…Ma’am Pomfrey got to you right on time, but just barely.”  


“Your eye’s pretty bad.” Why the hell was Lavender Brown here? “She saved it but … it’s got some sort of permanent scratch.”  


_The best of it._ If he survived this nightmarish hell.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


Well, an eyeroll certainly wasn’t possible from that eye anymore. Nor was any real sight. He’d refused to open it for the past few days, watching out of one eye because he was scared of what his right eye would be like now.  


The big reveal had finally happened back in the dormitory by himself. Opening it somehow wasn’t hard, but it was very strange to look at -- with the other eye, of course. A cloud had formed over it, it’s sight was pretty much gone; he knew he’d never be able to get away with glasses, because more or less, he was actually blind. There was no real sight. Just a lot of darkness and maybe a small patch of light here and there, except even _that_ was blurry.  


As every emotion came crashing down with the realization of what this meant for life, Seamus had to choke back several sobs. _Seeing_ Dean would never be the same again. Pomfrey had said it had the chance of clearing up a little bit more...so the mere possibility of minimal sight returning was the only hope he had right now. The scar left by the knife went from his forehead straight down to his jawbone (through his eye) on the right side of his face, and then even down on to his neck.  


“Oh god... what would you say?” He murmured, pressing a hand to the scar. “How will you ever look at me the same again if you see me?”  


The new whip marks were simply layered onto the other, more faded ones below them. There wasn’t anything new about that. He’d only taken a glance at those.  


In a flash of rage, he threw himself down onto the closest bed - Dean’s - and pressed his face into the pillow. What did change mean for anything?  


_“What’s going to happen? To us, I mean?” He looked up into those eyes, gripping the hand in his a little harder and crossing his legs more firmly._  


_“What do you mean?”_  


_“If changes happen… what would you do?”_  


_Dean smiled a little bit, “I know you’re worried about the year ahead…”_  


_Worried_ had been an understatement. The memory made the pain in his head throb a bit more.  


“Yeh can see me...can’t yeh, love?” For some reason, a sore throat always made his accent show up heavily. “You’re right there.”  


And he _knew_ Dean was right there beside him on the bed.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


Dreary birds twittered in the distance, despite the sun in the sky. April was bringing no satisfaction to anyone aside from the idea that at some point in the near future, they’d either be dead or home, where they had more of a chance of dying -- if they even had a home anymore.  


The lake wasn’t shining with light and nothing showed on its surface; the squid had long disappeared to its depths after sensing the changes in Hogwarts at the very beginning of the year. Even the Whomping Willow was motionless when something came at it.  


It was like the whole of the very ground of Hogwarts knew nothing was good anymore. Evil was reigning over them all, weighing things down like a dark invisible cloud. Seamus trudged to the side of a tree and placed his aching body down on it. Everything was in pain, hurting still very badly. Moving around was hell, because depth perception seemed to have gone along with his vision in his right eye.  


A few people had spotted him, he’d seen the points, just friends of course, but he didn’t really want to be bothered by them. Relaxing outside happened so little for him anymore that he didn’t take it for granted.  


“You came outside.” Lavender. Not that her coming over to talk was surprising anymore.  


“Felt like me brain was rotting in those corridors.”  


“You’ve got Dark Arts Monday…” she was worried, just like everyone else, “I’ve talked to Neville about it, and he says he’ll restrain you if he has to.”  


“’m not really into being restrained, if yeh get what I mean.” He growled at her, not happy that they were already planning to help keep him off Amycus. “Someone needs to restrain that ‘teacher’, not me.”  


“We thought about it, but getting Filch to do our bidding would be too hard.”  


Seamus rolled his eyes at her, “He’s gonna be the one starting anything. Anyways, can’t we just have some sort of... normal conversation? Yer making me scars hurt.”  


“Well, I was thinking about Charms earlier, but no one wants to hear about that…”  


“Go on.” Anything but the world around them and politics. Anything.  


“I want to be better at my Patronus - a bit off of charms and all, not really on the true subject,” she gave him a sideways look, clearly worried about boring him, but Seamus nodded for her to go on, “and I haven’t had much time to practice it. Would you like to come join me someday in the Room of Requirement and practice it? It might be a breather for once, from all…dark magic and stuff.”  


“I agree. Tomorrow evening sound good to yeh?” It was midway through April, what else was he going to find to do with his time?  


“3 in the afternoon will work for me, rather than later.” Lavender shot a smile at him before walking away quickly.  


Sometimes the relationship they had was complicated. Lavender was a very stubborn soul, this was acknowledged by everyone, but as he’d acknowledged earlier on, she was a kind person when she needed to be. Their friendship was sort of strange because there was a sort of admiration she had built up for Seamus, almost to the point of a crush, but nowadays, that had only been replaced with acceptance.  


Lavender knew who he was into: she had come to accept it, and he knew the feelings had hardened and died over the past year.  


Feelings did that. They would start out, warm and flowing like a stream in the summer, beautiful in all ways. And then the stream would flow into fall. Fall was sort of the relaxed time, where everything seemed fine, and this description fit this stage very well. Sadly, winter always came. The stream of feelings became brittle like ice; and eventually cracked under the pressure.  


His feelings right now were no longer at the crush rate, so the stages didn’t apply to him anymore. No, now his feelings were in a spring time -- but they were in a dark spring.  


With a small sigh, the small Irishman got up from his seat, gazing into the skies with little interest. It was time to find something else to do.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


“Oh - look!” She pointed excitedly at the little waft of silver from her wand, and in an honest attempt to look interested, he smiled kindly. She put her hands on her hips, “Why do you demand on being so ornery about this?”  


There were no happy memories to pull from anymore. The castle itself had swept everything right from his mind that was happy, each cold stone in the floor acted as the destructors that raked his thoughts for any sign of what made him happy. Hell, the people running this place had torn everything from him. Seamus had nothing to think about that seemed right for producing a Patronus in the first place.  


“Think really hard, Seamus. You have to...work at it, I understand, but please, try.” She came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know he’d want you to.”  


Biting back a comment, he gave a soft nod. No need in pursuing this debate too much. No, he wasn’t going to get it. The walls laughed at him from every side, because it was (twistedly) funny that every inch of happiness was gone.  


Raising the wand tightly in his fingers, Seamus focused harder than he had before.  


“Expecto P-patronum!” Nothing happened. All that had surfaced in his darkened mind was a faded, blurry image of a figure he supposed was Dean.  


Lavender squeezed his shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll find something.”  


“There’s nothin’ there, Lav. Hell, I can’t even see it with me eye.” Now he could finally collapse onto the nearby chair, hands on face. “Nothin’ left at all.”  


And there was no response to that, which was to be expected. Every inch of what little heart he had left shattered slowly again. They’d repair someday; but now, now it was too much to bear. Every memory was dead. He couldn’t remember what Dean looked like, sounded like, _tasted_ like anymore.  


“I gotta go back to the dorm. I...I can’t do this, Lav.”  


“No, come on, stay, please? I know you -- look I can’t let you go off on your own. You’ll bump into the walls again. I don’t...I’ll take you back when I’m ready.” Oh great, now she was trying to be his own defensive squadron.  


“I don’t need help getting ‘round. I’ll find me way to the dorm. If you want to protect me mental state, don’t do this to me,” he looked up at her, feeling his eye brim with tears (he wasn’t sure if the other one had any tears - or could - or _what_ anymore), “please, don’t do this to me. If I think I ain’t got nothing left, then…I don’t know what will happen.”  


She did not reply, her brown eyes watching him nervously as he stood up.  


How could you reassure someone that you _wouldn’t_ go kill yourself in a corridor after a talk like that? Had he known for certain, he would have been able to completely reassure her. Yet there was no current answer to that sort of question.  


Patronus charms were no use if you couldn’t come up with anything to create them.  


Neither was an empty bed, sitting beside so many other empty beds.  


Seamus returned to the dormitory and flopped onto the empty bed he had claimed as his own for all year long now, not caring that it was only 3:30 - or something like - in the afternoon.  


  
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“Good morning, class.” Only a familiar silence met the statement. Amycus’ small eyes darkened. “I see. We’re feeling remorseful today? I apologize if I haven’t met your standards for a few weeks, but come off of it already! We could be having more fun if you all hadn’t turned so _dour_ . Even you bunch haven’t been acting regular lately.” He aimed this last part at the Slytherins, who were _still_ in minor shock from Draco not returning.  


“Please, sir, what is it we’d be doing, exactly?” Pansy Parkinson raised a feeble hand. She was one of the few to ever address Amycus with the name “sir” and Seamus had noticed that the man loved it.  


“Oh, I have some things to bring to you today. There’s a few students who are going to be placed in the dungeons this evening - but I brought them here first, for a first round of lickings from you lot. But since I got no reply this fine morning, I’m not going to give you the joy of doing much at all, and instead you will take notes on observing the scene placed in front of you. This is a new concept that I have yet to try, but I thought it might be useful someday.”  


Seamus face-planted into his arms on the table. He’d gotten very little sleep the night before after a particularly bad nightmare that was bound to return again, and now he had to observe people being tortured as an assignment in a class. The only thing to be done now was to successfully piss off Amycus like usual, which wasn’t hard these days. Neville had already warned him against it this morning at breakfast, claiming that the ‘teacher’ wasn’t going to be so kind this time as to simply slamming Seamus’ head into the desk like he always seemed to do. No, apparently this time, it would consist of the full on Cruciatus curse. Not that that _hadn’t_ been done to him before in class.  


“What sort of objections have you all come up with today? The students are here, take a close look at them, choose one to observe.” Seamus lifted his head just in time to catch a glimpse of the looks on the first and second years’ faces -- and it was over for him. After so many times of seeing others being tortured, this was the end of that, because he wasn’t going to watch.  


Even when Amycus called everyone forward and everyone except him moved and he was called up to the front several times, he was still done. He still wasn’t going to do it; he wouldn’t budge.  


“I know I ask too much of you often, Finnigan, but is it really wise to not at least _move_ ? Even Longbottom moved when I asked him to.” At this point, he knew no one was looking back at him in shock except maybe the kids up front waiting to be tortured, because everyone was so _used_ to it.  


He still didn’t move, instead he stared blindly - both literally and figuratively- ahead, “No.”  


“The poor blind boy doesn’t get any excuse for not moving up to the front of the class with everyone else unless he can supply to me a ten page essay on why being half-blind is a problem. You can still see out of one eye, Finnigan, I expect you to be able to see what I’m holding up.” The sight of that dreaded whip made him shiver, and mentally refuse even more. Watching someone getting whipped was not something the 20th century was meant for.  


People had muttered a little at the rude comments made by the man. It was well known around the school that Seamus was now half blind, but a lot of kids thought it was cool that he had a scar from it. He’d gotten comments ever since he’d returned to normal classes about how awesome it looked. From others, there were only the eternal looks of pity. Neville was the only one who really knew how it made Seamus feel; _Neville_ had heard the sobs for Dean those nights after, crying about how he couldn’t see the man anymore, how he wouldn’t see him normally ever again -  


“Get your head up!” The closeness of the Death Eater was only now real, as he felt his face slam down into the table, and, unfortunately, Amycus ground the side with the blinder eye harder into the wood.  


“Ah-Aug-o-stop!” He screamed, thrashing violently and throwing Carrow off-balance.  


With another step out of the desk space, Seamus spit into the man’s face.  


The calls after him as he violently fled the room - yet again leaving the room of a Carrow - were only further ignored. Each body slam to the walls was a welcome feeling, and this time around, it was purposeful, whereas before, usually, it had been accidental on account of not being able to see the closeness of each one.  


As he crashed along the corridors, someone came running up to him. He couldn’t tell who it was -- he felt weak and dizzy with pain.  


“Seamus? What are you doing out of class?” Parvati had left their class due to something McGonagall needed her for -- Amycus had nearly fought the older lady over it, but eventually she convinced the horrid man she needed Parvati with good reason. “What did you do this time?”  


“Amycus...he…” He shook his head, closing his eyes as he leaned against the wall.  


“You can’t...oh Seamus...Alright. I’ll let you go. Find somewhere safe in your dormitory room. We don’t want him finding you this evening, I’ll let Neville know where you went.”  


“Thank ye.”  


Away he stalked, but no longer did he attempt to slam his body up against the wall quite so much.  


  
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As one of his many daily rants to Dean finished up - and right on time too - Neville came wheeling into the room, looking very frazzled. Seamus hadn’t been back to any classes since the explosion in the Dark Arts, so Hogwarts was sort of going a little crazy trying to find their missing hero; or villain. The Carrows had issued a search of the rooms, but Neville had managed to hide the Irish boy in a cabinet (to Seamus’ great discontent, he found he was in fact small enough to fit in it) and kept the twins away.  


“The D.A. needs to stop for now. The Room of Requirement.”  


“What about it?” He gave a look at the other boy, trying to seem annoyed but knowing he only came off as confused.  


Neville gave a sharp nod, “Right, you don’t know. Well just a few moments ago, someone came running into the Common Room, Dennis Creevey, you know the kid, and he called me over. Apparently, Michael was found trying to rescue a few first years and they’ve tortured him half to death in the dungeon, or did. He was rescued by a few of his housemates, but he wouldn’t let them take him to Pomfrey or their house. Instead he for some reason demanded, while being partially conscious, to be taken to the Room of Requirement. They’ve done it, but he’s in a very poor condition. I’m not sure how Dennis found out, something about Colin getting word from a fellow Ravenclaw, but regardless, the Room seems to be providing a safe place for everyone. A few people have already gone into hiding just now.”  


“And yeh seem to think I need to go into there as well? I can’t walk in these corridors without bein’ seen, even at night.” The response was sharp, but he meant what he said. People were on constant look-out for him, and with his stupid, goddamned vision, there would be little chance of survival.  


“Well...okay but we’re going to try and evacuate to there in the coming weeks. The whole D.A. is stopping any attempts of saving people for now… after Corner’s treatment, I think we need to lay off of it a bit. I aim to be in there by the weekend.”  


“Good for yeh.”  


Neville sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re...angry and pissed and what not, but don’t you ever wonder if there are others like you? Going through the same damn thing?”  


“Nevah wanted to, no. People try to avoid addressing their problems with me, Nev, from what I hear, me advice tends to get yeh into trouble.”  


“I know you’re low on self-esteem, Seamus. Things...yeah, they’re a bit worse for you, mate, but everyone’s going through _something_ . Sometimes we all need reminders.” This was around the time in conversations like this that the topic started to prick at his skin. It was uncomfortable to be told what you could and couldn’t do by someone who was your age, and Seamus usually wanted to burst out screaming. All he could manage this time was quite a weak nod despite the stubbornness he still felt against what Neville was saying.  


“Thanks.” He was quiet. “I’ll see ‘bout moving in sometime.”  


“Good to know you’ll take the offer. Couldn’t bear to see you thrown off the tower by the Carrows when they finally find you.”  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


There were hammocks of various sizes, shapes, and forms, as well as levels, hanging around the place. In the center of the floor, a platform was cleared off, obviously used as a table of sorts. Trunks sat all over the place: many had brought everything they owned, with good reason. Clothing hung all over the hammocks as if showing which ones had been claimed. A few people lounged in some of the chairs, others were lying in their hammocks.  


Yes, the room had certainly fixed itself with the appropriate decor. It seemed wider than normal, and off to one corner was a small door that didn’t seem to lead anywhere in the castle. A calendar was in place on the wall - someone’s attempt to keep things normal and maybe a bit ironic - marked off at each day. It was three weeks into April now, as shown by the elegant thing.  


Someone had a tight grip on his arm in a vain attempt to keep him from running in to various objects (it was in fact Lavender, who was muttering under her breath as if he couldn’t hear a word she said every few moments).  


“You can have that hammock over there.” Lavender attempted to guide him to it, but he threw off her grip, frustrated at having someone baby over him like that.  


The hammock in question was a decently sized navy blue with little tassels at each end. Once everything was sorted out below, Seamus pulled out his sketchbook and even cast a glance at his journal. The poor thing had not been completely neglected, he’d pulled it out just the other day, but it still seemed he was giving more looks to the sketches than to his own writing. The images were the last thing of Dean that he could really keep ahold of anymore.  


“What’s that?” The annoying girl had placed herself right next to him.  


“Nothing that really matters to yeh.” Once again, the rudeness of his tone wasn’t really deliberate, more from frustration than anything else.  


“Looks like a sketchbook.”  


“Yeah.”  


“Well, I can’t imagine you’ve been drawing. I mean, if I were an artist, drawing the gloominess of this castle would destroy my health. That’s one of his, isn’t it? What sort of things did he draw in there?” She finished the question by trying to grab for it, but he shook his head and pulled it away.  


“I don’t think he wants anyone else ta see it. That’s not...what it was meant to be left for.”  


“Oh, okay...I’ll leave you to it, then.” She shot him a soft smile, and left him to his thoughts.  


Sometimes it was nice to have someone else to talk to. Conversation was quite exhausting, though, and required more than Seamus was pretty sure he could handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, I got into the more mental side of everything, which basically meant taking Seamus and breaking his mind down piece by piece in many ways, as you may have noticed. It's character development, I promise. It helped move this chapter along when I wrote it, because April was a bit of a slow month.  
> I am so grateful for all of the comments I've gotten so far, and to answer everyone who never needed the question answered, yes, my goal is to tear out heartstrings. It brings up the dramatic effects of everything, so don't worry, you're not alone in your pain, and you're probably not alone in your tears. It's simply how things go with this story.  
> Thanks for kudos as well! Both kudos and comments are greatly appreciated as they do push me to update (even though it doesn't really seem like it with how I've been updating for the past few months)!


	9. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH MY GOSH. I'm awful. I really am the worst of them all. I'm so ... so bad.   
> Well, either way, whether you hate me or are grateful for me posting this chapter and have forgiven me instantly upon seeing it's revival, here is the next chapter. I decided I should give it to you all on this very special September 1st, and worked my butt off this evening to get it done and here it is! Happy 19 years later, everyone. I'm going to have the pleasure of taking you back to all of those 19 years past. (That...didn't make too much sense.)  
> I swear things are about to get loads better.   
> I will warn that in this chapter specifically, some of the unstable moments of Seamus' mental state are not meant to be what may really happen to someone who's suffered as he, I don't study the mind I'm merely a writer. I don't know what endless torture by Crucio and by whip and such would actually do to someone's mind, but I think that this is my personal imitation of it in Seamus. He has sort of been unstable this whole time, this chapter it's just him be rather delusional.   
> Like I did say, though, I don't know what torture does to a person's mind, actual torture or the type implemented here in the Wizarding World.   
> And I also write my Dean quite softer, he's a gentle soul even though he can certainly be commanding. That's just how I see him.   
> Hope you like it!

_2:00 PM_ _May 1st, 1998_  


_Settling in to any new place is a struggle, and people often don’t understand._  


_I’ve had to reserve my rants to bathroom time because if they hear me at all, I get whispers and looks. It seems that such things never end._  


_The mysterious door in the corner turned out to be an entrance to a secret pathway that goes to Aberforth Dumbledore’s house,- no one here knew Professor even had a brother - and that’s where all of our food has come from. It’s not particularly good food, but it’s satisfying enough. Neville’s taking care of all that comes in and out of the tunnel._  


_The rest of the castle outside is in a bit of a panic, according to those who are willing to go out and risk being caught to get a glimpse of the life the castle leads now. Not a soul out there really knows where we all disappeared to; and it’s not only the D.A. group that’s gone. Other students have come out of their desperation and begging. But not too many...not too many. I have a feeling the Carrows are probably “worried sick” or something. It wouldn’t surprise me._  


_I’ve gotten used to having half my vision. It’s weird, alright, but … at least I’ve come to some sort of acceptance. I still can’t get used to the fact that someday...if he...were to see me...nothing would be the same. But will anything ever be the same?_  


_This probably looks like shit, because while I can see most of what I write, I often make mistakes that look horrible, and I have to get someone else to correct them, if it’s something others are going to see. And my mind’s addled, I can feel the pressure on it a lot of the time when I’m sitting alone. If anyone were to see this...I don’t know what I’d do. Unless I specifically gave it to them… no one should ever read this._  


_Neville keeps acting like Harry’s going to up and appear sometime soon, like this will all end or something. I don’t think he’ll return. Yet that fool won’t stop insisting that Harry’s coming back. What makes him the most ridiculous, though, (while he’s pleading with us about his endeavors) is his extremely beat-up face. It’s not exactly funny - I look worse, I know it, things are swollen everywhere, and there’s probably some infection - but one can’t help doubting another’s attempts at encouragement when they’ve got a puffer fish as a face._  


_I haven’t made it through the sketchbook yet, I’m still saving some of the pages for various reasons. I don’t really want to see the very last image in it. Hell, I haven’t actually really looked at it since my … injury. I’m not sure I want to see it differently. I’ve written about this before, I’m as certain about that as I’m certain about having lost most of my sight. But I just don’t want to, because there’s an end coming someday. Soon. Maybe. I hope. God, oh god, I hope there’s a coming end to this all._  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


Dinner had been very poor amounts of sloppy stuff known as “soup”. It was nearing the later end of the evening hours into night, and Seamus was once more hoping desperately that maybe, just maybe, the food in the morning would make up for whatever _that_ had been. Neville had disappeared off through the tunnel door all of a sudden not but a few moments ago, and most were still whispering about why he might have gone.  


They were all seated around the “table” as they usually were at some point during the day. Tension rose in the air, all were beginning to feel antsy in anticipation for whatever event may be happening soon because of the mysterious disappearance of Neville.  


“Where might he have gone?”  


“I think there was something about fish…”  


“What sort of fish, you imbecile, would require being hours early to the place you needed to get it from?”  


It was the longest and most uncomfortable wait Seamus had ever experienced. Neville had left little information, simply saying that he would be back soon right when the picture in the portrait had appeared and taken him away. That had been ten minutes ago, according to the curious clock on one of the walls.  


A creak suddenly resounded through the entire room causing everyone to freeze.  


“Did you hear that?” Someone whispered, but it was so quiet everyone could hear the words. Seamus lifted his face toward the door.  


A long moment was drawn out as the door slowly opened; and then came Neville, grinning like the village idiot. And then - the entire room erupted.  


Shouts echoed all over the place as Harry Potter himself emerged from the opening, along with Ron and Hermione, all looking a little overwhelmed, Seamus noticed; before he ran up to clap them on the backs like everyone else was doing. He caught Neville’s eye briefly, only to be met with a short nod and a grin.  


There were a few minutes of talking. Seamus took part in some of it, making sure to highlight the good side of Neville, and he didn’t miss the looks the trio gave him as they recognized him in all of his bruised glory.  


But there was something missing from the atmosphere, and maybe everyone noticed it and maybe they didn’t, he wasn’t sure. It felt like a part of the puzzle of the scene before them was missing and it was driving Seamus mad --  


Harry said something loudly, but no one seemed to catch it as the tunnel door behind him opened once more.  


A voice was heard, a female voice, saying something about “receiving a message”. Luna, of all people, stepped through the corridor and _someone_ followed behind her.  


In that instant, Seamus’ weakened vision tunneled. For a moment, he could only stand there as shock made every nerve prick up. His heart gave a giant flip-flop motion which seemed to resonate throughout his ribcage, causing feelings to explode everywhere. Tears pricked at his one eye, threatening to well-up and strangle him in their intensity.  


All emotions gave way in a flash. Each one of them ripped through his body like a lightening bolt: anguish, mourning, bitterness, regret, and finally: love. Pure and unadulterated love radiated from inside him, the last “flash of lightning” echoing in his ribcage and making everything in the room seem completely idiotic. How could anyone just stand there, when this, this was, _no_ , that was-  


With a deep breath, Seamus let out a loud noise that was probably best described as a _roar_ as he bolted toward the figure, embracing the tall man around the neck.  


For some reason, he was as stiff as a board when Seamus reached him.  


“Dean.” He lifted his face a little, and saw the recognition and shock pass over Dean’s face. Suddenly, every inch of breath and air that he had had in his lungs previously was gone.  


“Seamus? Oh god, _oh god_ , Shay…”  


It _was_ Dean. Dean, who after all this time was finally back. Dean, who was now gripping him tightly and holding him to his chest. Dean, who had his face buried in Seamus’ hair, holding him above the floor with his strength, muttering his name, over and over and over again.  


He absolutely failed to notice that most people were watching them - or had been, from the moment Dean was through the door - even though Harry was talking again.  


“What the hell did they do to you?” Dean took a moment from muttering “Shay” and spoke the words softly into the hair his face was pressed into. “What happened?”  


“Carrows.” It was all that needed to be explained right now anyway.  


All that mattered right now was that Dean was here and back and alive and breathing. 

 

Seamus was forced to drop one arm as soon as Dean held up his Galleon and asked Harry why they couldn’t fight.  


“-they _take_ yer wand or somethin’? He had already expressed his amazement at the downright stupid bravery of walking into a battle without a wand, and now he turned his full half-gaze on Dean for the first time. The black man gave a soft nod.  


“What is wrong with your eye, Seamus?”  


“I...blinded.”  


Dean gave a sharp intake of breath, “They took - wait...oh Shay…really?”  


“Knife. I’ll...explain...later.” It had to come to the tough stuff later. There seemed to be a battle brewing, so why explain everything now when the chances of survival still seemed to be a little on the low side?  


There were a few moments of staring into each other’s eyes (or eye, in his case) where everything that wanted to be done or said was “done” and “said” through sight. So much had to be conveyed in one tiny, simple motion of the body that Seamus wanted to just get on with it and make out right then and there; but that didn’t quite seem … _fitting_. Or really, at any time in the near future.  


“We should probably help kick some ass around here.” Dean gently suggested, but it was really, only a suggestion.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


The students sat in their familiar formal rows. Not a single person stirred as the teachers gazed over them,an unknown cloak called silence embedding the entire Hall. Seamus gripped Dean’s hand harder - he’d been holding it since they’d left the Room of Requirement.  


It was the first time in weeks that he’d left the room, yet Hogwarts didn’t look terribly different at all. Maybe a bit gloomier, since it was late at night, but that was all. Every student was seated at their respective table, most were tired looking, and all were in various forms of dishevelment. McGonagall was answering the few questions that were asked -- a sudden cold voice broke over the entire hall. Shrieks from various students echoed all over the place, as the cruel thing kept speaking.  


With a large shiver, he tried to curl his body back into Dean’s, who was shaking just as badly as he. The amount of fear a voice could put in one was sort of outrageous, it made Seamus as angry as much as he was scared.  


“... _midnight_.” The word echoed around the great space until some stupid Slytherin - Pansy, who was always a horrible creature, of course she would do this - stood up and tried to get at Harry.  


Tugging on Dean’s hand, they stood up with the rest of the Gryffindors to block anyone from reaching Harry. Fear was gone completely, replaced with the anger Seamus had felt since the beginning of the year when all had become inevitable.  


These were the people who had been responsible for him losing Dean in the first place. They were finally going to bloody pay for all the damn stupid things they’d put so many people through.  


_All_ the pain he’d been through was their faults. If Seamus were to accurately describe what was going through him right then aside from adrenaline and rage, he would have only been able to say “excitement”.  


A profound numbness of disbelief also reigned in his failed mind. Doubts had floated through his head for hours now, debating whether or not this really was Dean, Dean was actually here, Dean wasn’t actually here… The kind chocolate eyes that looked at his own -- Oh! - that were looking _into_ his own now... they were the same chocolate color he’d always found in cruel times.  


So there was little to no explanation as to why he couldn’t believe this was Dean. Or, well, there shouldn’t have been. Seamus heard himself let out a small whimper, and felt hands wrap around his shoulders, every other person in the room dissolving from view suddenly as he stared back at Dean.  


“Shay? Shay, can you hear me? Are you sure you’re up to fight?” There was no need to get worried, why was Dean worried? “You look…”  


“I…” There were no words to say. What words may have been extracted before were no longer there to find.  


“I understand if you’re nervous. You simply didn’t look _nervous_ ,” Dean spoke again. Slytherin appeared to be leaving the Great Hall now. Shouldn’t they pay attention to what was going on?  


“It was … shock.” He mumbled it softly, and yet, Dean heard it, a tiny look of relief passing over his face.  


“I’m glad you’re not going to have a stroke while fighting then.”  


The joke was half-hearted; most things were “half-hearted” right then.  


Dean gently pushed him back down into the table, and sat down beside him, hand still gripping his own tightly. For now, they would remain as close together as possible. Seamus felt the ringing in his ears that had appeared before the exchange could completely disappear, something inside of him felt warm with the reassurement that Dean was here, at least… at least he appeared to be, for now. Maybe it _was_ only for now; if this was, like everything else, made-up. That might be okay.  


A large part of Seamus wanted to believe this was made-up. That large part of him was starting to firmly believe it, even if those warm eyes were still looking at him in worry, even now. The battle was the only real thing about it all -- but that was okay, he would fight for Dean.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


Loud, blasting explosions ricocheted around the large “battlefield” once known as Hogwarts. None of the destruction done to the castle so far had been done recently, per say. What had been done recently was his fixing various explosives to the bridge, and waiting for it blow up in their faces.  


Smells entered the air, smoke combining with that familiar smell of burning wood. Various parts were already destroying themselves very slowly. The bridge would fall into a slow deterioration until it simply went out with a giant “bang!”  


That would be the sweet end of a slow burn.  


Seamus watched from the edge of the castle - the entrance to the bridge - as Death Eaters tried to cross, unaware of what lay beneath it. A moment from now, the bridge would be unavailable for use. Good luck to anyone who was on it; a small huff came out of his mouth as he thought this, something that may have even resembled a chuckle, whatever _that_ felt like. Seamus didn’t remember how to laugh.  


Up above, people shouted quickly as someone shot a spell at the nearest connector that would end it all. Even with his limited visibility, Seamus still couldn’t wait to see what it looked like.  


Soot suddenly flew at him from all directions as the bridge began to collapse in an almost graceful motion. Seamus was never quite prepared for those moments when the dirt flew in your face; by the looks of it, no one else standing by him was either.  


Someone was screaming in the distance. For a brief moment, the Irish man actually thought of someone other than Dean being injured. That was a marvel, seeing as how he’d been so worried all this time. Only now when others were at risk could he truly think of anyone else’s safety.The battle was ugly, ugly and gruesome. Others would be losing their lives too. Plenty of people had already, he was certain of it.  


The separation from Dean had been almost immediate when the fight had begun. Already, the memory of the man wasn’t strong enough in his mind to make him believe any of the pre-battle events had happened.  


Before the group of destroyers could excessively stare at the bridge in admiration, they found themselves running toward the center of the castle. Fighting was planned as their primary focus once the bridge was destroyed.  


There was only so much stimulation Seamus could take as he entered the fray of people, all twisting various ways, Death Eaters swooping in and out or falling with their dueling partner. On one of his glances around, Seamus watched two fight it out in a brutal wrestle to grab their wands from the ground. The Hogwarts resident was triumphant; and obviously scared shitless from her scuffle. Seamus offered a nod as he passed, running with the others he’d been grouped with.  


Courtyards were constant sources of good battle scenes from what Seamus had been told in years past by Dean on the topic of Muggle action movies. For the first time, he had the profound realization that they actually were.  


Every piece of the building sitting in the way put no stop to anyone’s fight. It was a miracle he ran through without getting hit. Exhaustion was pounding through his body already, he was puffing for breath: since he’d been caught up in what was going on around them, he was only now able to realize his pain as they all came to a halt in the entrance to the Great Hall.  


A feeling of admiration and absolute pride for some unknown person hit him as he looked at the door frame and saw that **The List** was lying in shreds about the area from his position with hands on his knees. They had destroyed - _begun_ to destroy, even - the pieces of the past year with their immense amount of hatred and disposition. Seamus was grateful to whomever had destroyed that black curtain of torture.  


Before he could take anything else in, he was shoved against the backs of his “squad” and helped fight off attackers from all angles with whatever spell he could come up with first. Even if it was just a simple disarming spell, so be it.  


Yet Seamus wasn’t mentally stable enough for this sort of fighting, oh, how he knew it. Parts of him wanted to sit down and cry in the dust and rubble that surrounded them, giving up because it hurt too much to watch people fall, hurt too much for him to move to save them.  


“Seamus, stay standing! Move him to the center if you can!” Hannah Abbott - whom he’d known was with them but hadn’t really registered that fact fully - shouted to the others. It was only then that he realized he was practically kneeling.  


The others nervously surrounded him, taking out their attackers in a pointed square-like shape. Hannah had been watching him the whole time, he knew it, she’d spotted his weakness long before he’d realized he was slightly dizzy and dazed.  


This was awful. He threw a spell over some of the heads around him when someone came at them that they couldn’t see, but Seamus really wanted to give up now. After scaling that bridge, whatever energy he had left was slowly leaving him.  


Things slowed down suddenly - as if it were one of those freeze frames in those damn action movies - bodies flying in various directions with spells joining them. Shouts became long, drawn out noises. In the distance there was a loud thumping from all directions, like giants were coming in. And amidst the noise, Seamus realized he had to fight.  


No matter how much it hurt, because that had never stopped him before, he had to. It wouldn’t stop him now.  


Dean would wait for him if he didn’t come to him immediately after the battle ended, if it ever ended. Seamus wouldn’t be there to come back to that man, who seemed more phantom-like than ever now, if he didn’t keep fighting.  


Hannah couldn’t keep these people surrounding _and_ protecting and alive all at once forever. He didn’t want to be weak in front of anyone. Here he was, slowing them all down. Seamus must keep fighting and pushing, he _must_ keep fighting and pushing, for there was nothing else to do in times like these.  


“Split up!” He stood taller now, although the others were still all taller than he, “Split up and run!”  


Hannah only shot him a rather confused look before running off. Seamus could take care of himself. A crabby older man with a large black beard approached him hungrily, but before the big man could act, something emitted from Seamus’ mouth that he had never thought he would use. And he would never use again. “CRUCIO!”  


The man writhed until Seamus disarmed him, he remained writhing until the spell was dropped. For a moment, Seamus stood still, staring at the face of that man who was watching him in pain now. Hell. Bloody hell. _Never again. Never. Again._  


As he ran, his mind twisted. What he had done back there was absolutely unacceptable and it wouldn’t be repeated. Yet that could not be haunting right now, he needed to keep fighting and pushing. Fighting and pushing...  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


_One hour._  


Cold tears trickled down their chins as they gazed at those lying above and under the sheets, the air heavy with loss. The words had reverberated through every inch of the castle as he’d run through to get here. They still seemed to hold their weight in the Great Hall; each word that had been said about costing the lives of many was now being realized as true.  


It had become a place of the dead and the gloomy, not the lively and jolly air that had always seemed to exist in the place all those years prior. Seamus gave a gentle sigh as he stood in the entrance.  


His presence went unnoticed by all that he passed. Pain entered his heart as he gazed at the bodies on the ground. On a platform higher than the rest, Ma’am Pomfrey was tending to the wounded who lay there. Those that were no longer curable were lying on the surrounding ground. No doubt there would be more bodies to pull out from the rubble, but from the tone of the dark wizard who had spoken to them all not more than a few moments ago, there was a chance they might all become one with the rubble regardless.  


“Seamus?” Parvati was watching him from her crouched position beside Lavender, who didn’t appear to be dead. The platform must have grown too weighted as the injured were being placed below.  


Ignoring her questioning look and tone, Seamus moved away in a dazed trance. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out who else was dead. There were all of the Weasleys: oh...god… that was horrible…  


Grief shrouded the hall. Seamus did not want to be a part of the grief, he wanted to get fully away from it, he wanted to make sure that what had seemed like an imaginary figure was real and that maybe that figure had survived like the miraculous person Dean was. That sort of grief had been over his head for months, he’d had that same grief before anyone else had, that grief of death. It filled the air with its horrible scent, death did, shading everything three shades too dark.  


All the Irishboy wanted was to find that familiar chocolate brown face in the midst of this crowded Hall, standing, not lying. He was now almost at the end of the Hall when a hand gripped his arm with a gentle pull.  


Turning completely around, he was met with the eyes of the only person who might offer comfort.  


For on the ground behind them were the cold bodies of students Seamus had tried tirelessly to stand up for, and he hated the sight. But the tall dark man covered his vision completely from the bodies as if sensing the pain they caused. Slowly, slowly Seamus was beginning to believe this really was Dean -- he really wanted to believe it was.  


“Shay?” Dean’s eyes were searching his again, and he let his vision only see Dean, which was easier with one eye available. “Shay, you’ve made it…”  


“So have yeh,” He could not say the words that finalized the idea of survival; neither of them could. That reality hadn’t happened yet, and he wasn’t really sure this was reality yet.  


“We have an hour to do whatever we need to get out of the way...I was desperate when I entered, I thought maybe you’d...Well, we-” Seamus held his finger up to Dean’s stuttering lips, a soft, teasing grin entering his face.  


If he could at least pretend this was really Dean, he could also touch this person who had to be something of Dean. The taller man quit babbling.  


“I was thinking yeh might need to be in a quiet place for a bit,” he gave a wide motion around them, “and not ‘round heah.”  


“Good idea.”  


With a soft pull of his own, Seamus entered a corner of a corridor outside the entrance to the Great Hall, one he’d always wanted to stand in with Dean like this -- like the way they were standing now especially.  


Dean held one hand just above his shoulder, the other, gently placed on Seamus’ arm. Seamus let both his hands fall down to hold Dean’s hips; but while they may have both been thinking along the same lines of a snogging session, Seamus didn’t want to. Now wasn’t the time for that. He was certain the black man was thinking the exact same thing.  


“I’m not sure there’s much ta say…” He gave a little shrug, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t thinking about what it would be like to taste those lips right now. Maybe taste them in order to see if those lips were real. They’d seemed real enough when he’d touched them -- tasting would only prove it more. “Dean, I … I think we should wait ‘till this is over…”  


There was a small nod, “I’ve had similar thoughts.”  


That could mean a number of things. It could mean that Dean was just as numb about this as he was. It could mean that he was regretting all of this.  


He was pressed so far back into the stone wall, he was sure there was going to be an imprint of his back from how close Dean was leaning in. Seamus wanted to make sure that this hour wasn’t going to be their last. It truly wasn’t, and they weren’t going to act like it was and get carried away in the moment with that thought. Screams were still ringing through the halls. Grief ran amuck in everyone’s minds. It couldn’t end like this.  


Dean seemed to be getting the message. He backed away a little bit, as if scared, or even shy, letting the other off the wall. Seamus had to stand and turn to face him now. They stood like that in silence, an almost strangely calm silence. Seamus finally took in all of the appearance of this mirage that claimed to be Dean.  


So much thinner than he’d ever been, was Dean, that it was shocking. The clothing he wore was decently fitted: but it was clear that it had to be fitted to work for him. His appearance wasn’t excessively ragged, so obviously times in good places had been spent recently. Living in a prison cell hadn’t been the predicament the entire time he had been missing, but it was visible that recently he had been doing something of the sort.  


Those cheeks that created those pleasant cheekbones were extremely thin now. The cheekbones in question had always seemed a little freakish; well, freakish to anyone who didn’t have as much appreciation for them as Seamus did. His appreciation was higher than anyone else’s in the world.  


But whatever had happened over that long year had truly affected Dean brutally. Food had probably been scarce. There were, in fact, no stress marks, as if Dean couldn’t be affected by those naturally. His eyes held only love and admiration for the man in front of him from what Seamus could tell.  


A loud wail echoed around the corridor suddenly -- seeing who was making that sound was hardly intriguing. Dean gave a grimace, his lips turning downward. People had died tonight and here they were, trying to figure things out before the whole world collapsed.  


Cool air rushed by, stealing away all breath. Thoughts swirled in his head, thoughts of the images from the sketchbook, thoughts of the way they were standing now; all sorts of crazy thoughts that were driving him crazy.  


“We should… do somethin’...” Before Dean could pull away, he was dragged a little closer with an unknown strength that the Irishman did not know he possessed at the time. Now they were touching foreheads.  


“Whatever yeh do… don’t get.. Don’t leave me heah alone, Dean…” A sigh escaped his lips as he said this, a strange regret filling every inch of his body, “Don’t leave me alone.”  


He left off the part about how he was only just beginning to believe this really was Dean. The part about how the man’s existence and _knowledge_ of his existence relied on Dean being there. One moment of silence finished the thought off, the sounds of sobbing coming into the corridor before either of them could really react; and they broke apart.  


The last glance Seamus gave to his lover was the moment he was able to capture all of Dean’s emotions in one facial expression as they moved away from each other as if a spell had been cast to keep them away.  


All that echoed in the seemingly familiar face was longing.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


“EXPELLIARMUS!” It was shouted with urgency, and the man went flailing away as a stunning spell was shot at him.  


Seamus had never realized how difficult working with another person to defend really was. He thought that maybe this could be easier if Neville would lay off a little bit, but maybe this was how it was meant to be done? Dueling partners had never been something taught in class.  


Screams were going off again from all around as the battle drolled on. Not a single, tattered, exhaustion-ridden body that could still move was standing still or unoccupied. All of the Hall was covered in hordes of dueling people. They had fought off several Death Eaters by now, when Harry had randomly disappeared --  


“SEAMUS! WATCH IT!” Neville shouted at him, a curse darting in his direction.  


With all the effort he had, he tried to dodge it, he really did. The unidentified color caught his lower leg as he attempted movement. Immense pain cut across it as the spell hit. Blood started to show through the leg of his trousers down in his calf. Neville wasn’t paying him any mind as he was once more distracted by another Death Eater.  


Seamus gritted his teeth, hearing cries echo from all around. Only a few moments ago, Harry had been dead, then he wasn’t, and now no one was sure what the hell was happening. Dragging himself to a large fallen stone, Seamus sat down heavily on it. The least that could be done was a bit of defensive strategy.  


Before anyone could try and attack him, everything fell still and silent.  


Harry had said something, Harry - Harry was actually alive and standing right there - _Harry_ had silenced everyone. Voldemort stood in the center of all across from the boy.  


The next minutes would always remain indescribable to Seamus, who was never quite sure what really happened.(His half-an-eye-vision didn’t assist with that either.) In one instant, suddenly, Voldemort was dead, after some spells had been cast and threats were made up. For another moment, Seamus’ breath caught in his throat as he realized what this meant with every other person who were just now realizing the same thing.  


Then, new screams were ringing out amongst those in the Hall: screams of joy, absolute, pure, joy. Seamus saw Harry being flooded, he moved himself off of the rock, now ignoring the pain in his leg. He caught Harry’s eye from the distance for a brief moment and managed to give a small nod, knowing the other saw it and acknowledged it.  


But his attention was pulled away from those who were celebrating with Harry, and certainly, there were plenty of them, as he ran in one direction and one direction only.  


When they collided, the feeling was an explosion as the tall black man pulled him up and gripped him around the waist. He was quite literally being held up by Dean, and he gripped Dean’s neck to hold onto something.  


Wrapped in the tight embrace, Seamus felt the numbness decrease even further as Dean looked him straight in the eye, and uttered the words “You made it. WE made it.”  


For a moment, the luck was unbelievable, no matter what was going on with his leg right now. Seamus could only stare at Dean, all things going through his head. The past year was a lot to process and so much had happened that now, now they had come to the end of it and now maybe, just maybe, there was a future, a _future_ to look forward to?!  


Without another moment’s hesitation, he lifted his head up, pulling Dean down to him, and pulling him onto his lips. There was a moment for them both where the shock of actually feeling the other’s lips again, and the taste caused them to stiffen slightly.  


And then it was all Seamus could have begged for, and even more.  


The rhythm was found, the relaxed tone -- the _taste_ was there again. Dean’s lips always tasted this good, and now they were finally getting out what they had wanted to during that “intermission”. Shouts came to them now as they stood, practically snogging each other’s faces off with all their might. Maybe some of the shouts were simply taunting; but for once Seamus found the attention amusing, not terrifying.  


Explosions seemed to be going off as they moved at different angles, testing out different speeds. When it was finally (and sadly, as he saw it) completed, he was standing on the ground again, gazing up at Dean. People were filtering around them to head back inside slowly.  


“I love you, Seamus.” Dean grabbed at his left hand, entwining their fingers together as he said this with all the sincerity in the world.  


Before there was an easily made reply, Dean was bending down and reaching his lips again, Seamus craning his head upward to catch what he would forever claim was truly the best of it.  


This time it was less rough and more beautiful, more caring, more love-filled, every sweet emotion and memory pouring into it. Seamus caught glimpses in his mind of Dean, memories from years ago, memories from recently. There was nothing more satisfying to him than this. He was finally kissing Dean again. They were finally together again. Any numbness or disbelief was expelled for the moment.  


“I love yeh too, Dean,” he saw a smile at the way his Irish accent twisted the words, “I’m sorry.” The smile was destroyed a little bit.  


“Oh...Shay...it’s not your fault…”  


And then it was the sweeping crowd that took them away from their silent moment, the sounds of shouts still being made, and the sounds of despair ringing in the air again. Now was not the place or time to discuss anything. From the looks of it, they might as well help pull out people from the rubble rather than discuss feelings.  


Seamus gave a slightly nervous shrug, but Dean just laughed at it and gripped his hand tighter. Cleaning up came before other priorities, obviously; but the skies seemed somehow brighter as they made their way, together, to help out with what needed help.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


He held out the sketchbook gently, a tear sliding down his cheek. The stone they sat on felt cold and unwelcoming. All that made the situation any better was the warm body beside his, pressed up against him comfortably in an attempt to make him more comfortable what with his leg and all. They had escaped the messy Great Hall and now sat outside in a corridor; Dean’s arms were wrapped distractingly around his waist.  


“I … I kept this…I knew yeh…” The unmistakable sound of a sharp breath being drawn in hit his ears. Along with the sketchbook was his notebook, both taken and shrunk and stuck in his pocket at the beginning of the battle. Losing both would have devastated Seamus.  


“Oh Shay that’s-” Dean seemed to be choking on his audible tears, eyes peering gently down at the sketchbook.  


“Yeh left it on purpose, didn’t yeh?”  


“Yeah.” Dean had to smile back a little, despite the tears making their way down each face. “I had to give you -- I didn’t know what might happen, so I left it there in the hope that you might find it. I’m glad you did, Shay…”  


There was no need to agree. Seamus was beyond grateful that the sketchbook had been there, because after all the dark times it was the only light he’d truly had. The images weren’t even the slightest bit damaged when he began to open it. He was really just making sure he had it opened to the very first page that was obviously Dean’s first drawing of him. It was done with care, uncolored, and gently done, as if there were a bundle of nerves behind each stroke of the pencil.  


The Irish boy was clearly sitting down on a bed; the pillow was what gave that away. Seamus had never gotten as far as the first few pages: this one took away his breath exactly as every other one had. Glorious in it’s own strokes and patterns, the image hit him emotionally.  


Dean gripped one of his hands that held the book, making gentle circles on the back of Seamus’ palm with his thumb, “I always wanted to tell you I had it... Couldn’t bring myself to it, not even before…”  


An outburst of sobs from Dean caused him to turn around to now face the other. He felt tears start to go faster down his own cheeks, and pulled the tall man close into his shirt.  


The very _least_ they could give one another was comfort. It was body-racking sobs that engulfed Dean now, sobs that would last. Seamus allowed himself to give into his emotions as well. In front of Dean, there was no hiding anything.  


“I shouldn’t have left, Shay, I shouldn’t have left,” Dean was repeating, stroking his hair and gripping him tighter. “Shouldn’t have left…”  


Seamus managed a small whimper when an elbow hit a sore spot, and Dean looked up quickly.  


“What is it?”  


“Nothing, jus’ a sore spot, it’s okay,” he shook his head to get the worry out of Dean’s eyes. They needed to cry before explanations were going to go down.  


“There aren't no words to describe this past … year… Shay, there aren’t.” For once, Dean was the one being more talkative, which tended to happen when he was emotionally torn, and it was scary to see all that worry and longing in his eyes. Seamus wanted both to be replaced with better, healthier looks; but he knew very well he didn’t look much better; if not worse.  


“No...there aren’t…” He nodded, voice slightly muffled by the body he was leaning into.  


The soft sobs filled the air for the following minutes, hours, days, weeks -- however long they sat there. Seamus wondered how he had enough tears to last any good long period of time; and then realized he’d probably have this many tears for years on end now.  


Everything was no longer bottled up inside of anyone. The tension that was in Hogwarts all year was suddenly gone, now replaced with a feeling of emptiness or despair or fear or exhaustion -- or simply sadness. Tears and grim faces.  


Crying was absolutely needed. Dean was still racking against his body, shaking harder than ever, but Seamus cried quieter tears. For this time, he would be the comforter, and his love, the despaired.  


It was hard to imagine how he could pick up from there. A thought flashed into his mind as he sat there at some point… a thought he was sure he’d never have again, and here it was, present as ever. _This couldn’t be the real Dean, it had to be a fake. A dream. A nightmare._  


None of this devastation could have ever happened.

 

A bleak morning broke over the gentle horizon; the battle had been an all-nighter situation. They had sat out in the corridor not talking for a good two hours now. Tears had been soaked up and put to rest for the time being, but neither of them wanted to talk. Seamus was still gripping Dean tightly without a thought of letting go. The books were laid to rest beside them.  


The rest of the castle seemed to be quieter than before. People were emerging into the silent morning air at the other end of the corridor, leaving behind the inside trappings of Hogwarts. With a groan, Dean pulled himself gently away, staring blearily at the Irishman in front of him.  


“What do you want to do?” It was an actual question that was genuinely asking if Seamus had anything in mind. There were more than just a few dirty thoughts at large now with the exuberant feeling of being with Dean again, but those had to be pushed aside for now. “You look so awful, Shay, I don’t want you sitting on this rock the rest of the day…”  


“I...can we go up and see the dormitory? I haven’t...I haven’t seen it for a few weeks or so, and I …” The look on Dean’s face told him all he needed to know for an answer.  


The walk was long, slow, tedious. It was hard getting past the large, grey chunks of wall that lay in their way, and every now and then Seamus stumbled from the pain in his body, his stupid goddamn vision, and his legs. Dean was practically carrying all his weight, which was not something Seamus enjoyed because this was a skeleton of a man. But truthfully, how much more weight did Seamus have compared Dean? It was the only question stopping him from demanding to be put down right now this very instant.  


A few times they were forced to stop and look around for a moment as they caught their breath after trekking across some stairs or large open areas. The whole venture had turned into an exploration of Hogwarts itself, not a direct route to Gryffindor Tower at all. As the dim halls surrounded them, Seamus looked up at Dean for a moment to assess the damage once more. There was so much to find on one man’s face…  


And then they were finally at the common room door. The Fat Lady no longer stood in her painting, the door was swung open, an invitation to come in, no doubt. A push was given from behind as the smaller man tried to get in, just like all those years in the past.  


Sunlight streamed in through the windows now, breaking the dusty area open. Things were thrown about: not even the common room had been saved from the war zone. It was evident students had thrown most of it around in a rush to gather people together or hide -- or something, because it wasn’t destroyed.  


No, the chairs were simply lying battered on their sides and a table was on its back with all of its legs up in the air. That would have, in a different time, made him laugh at the silly vision of those damned legs up in the air like a dead turtle.  


As this was all processed through their minds - Seamus nervously toyed with the books in his hands now - he felt a hand grab him and pull him into Dean’s chest, another rough hug with more than enough emotions flowing through it. For someone who hadn’t seen the place for a year, it must have been hard to acknowledge that it looked this bad. Seamus felt awful for his lover to have to see it this way.  


“It’s...desolate…” Dean said at last, when the hug had finished and they’d pulled away, Seamus claiming a firm grip on his hand to avoid complete separation, “I’ve tried to picture it in my mind all year, but now that I’m here and the memories are back -- I almost wish I wasn’t here seeing it like this, because now this is another memory to add to the list.”  


There was nothing more to be said after that. Seamus merely squeezed the larger hand that was in his, and moved slowly toward their bedroom with Dean in tow. There was no telling what might be in there, but he knew with Dean, he had the courage to face whatever lay before them.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


Neville, Luna, Ron, Hermione, Cho, Ginny, and several others were seated around the floor in the bedroom area. All looked up as they entered; not a single smile was given on any uplifted face. Some seemed to be trying to communicate a more pleased or happy emotion on their faces without doing a complete job of it, so in return Seamus gave a nod to all and dragged Dean to the bed he’d spent most of his year in. They weren’t going to talk amongst others right now. It felt better to be alone and together and talking, because now was the time for talking.  


With the bed curtains drawn close, Seamus could almost pretend they were still young and innocent, like the chaos hadn’t happened yet. Only the sight of their tattered clothing, the weary look on Dean’s face, and the fact that he could see only a few parts of a room at once gave it all away.  


“Where do we begin?” He placed a hand on Dean’s knee, circling a finger around on the kneecap. He asked it carefully; full of meaning as well.  


“I don’t know,” only a shrug in return, “I didn’t think we’d ever… this would ever… be real….again. All I can tell you is… I love you more than I think I’ll ever be able to express, Seamus, which I only truly realized over the course of this year.”  


His eyes were shining their familiar chocolate brown shine. If his lips didn’t say it with a smile, his eyes said it with their glow. Seamus felt himself melting under the sight.  


“I … I love yeh too -- loads, Dean. I don’t know if I managed to learn any more about me love for yeh other than the truth,” It was careful words all over the place, but words of impact, “I’d do anythin’ for yeh, Dean Thomas.”  


It felt like ages had passed since they’d sat like this, ages and ages and ages. One year felt like a million all of a sudden, and he gasped a little with the impact of the realization, closing his eyes quickly as everything went out of him. Despite all the danger, they’d made it, as here they were.  


“Shay, I think explanations of the past year can come slowly. I don’t want to rush this. I can tell - no - I _know_ it hurt you, look at you, you’re a mess, but you’re my mess,” Dean placed a hand on his left shoulder, “And I want to keep you for as long as I can. So I think that means we need to go slowly.”  


He couldn’t have thought of anything better to say; there was _nothing_ better to say.  


The curtains around them trembled as the door to the dorm slammed shut suddenly and a new person entered the circle, no doubt about it. There were greetings, but they both remained silent on their bed. Dean continued watching him closely, Seamus could see his eyes were looking all up and down his profile. It was more of a test now than ever before.  


“Can… Dean, I wrote in this all year, an’ I don’t know what else to do with it but to give it to you.” He handed the notebook over to Dean, the leather binding cracking slightly as it was moved. Dean took it with care, eyeing it gently. They both knew this was a book full of secrets, but a book full of wonder as well. “I want yeh to start from the beginning of this year; another day can be put off for the rest of the years that are concealed in there. That’s the first explanation I’ll give yeh. All the details will be filled in sometime else.” He was still looking at the book in Dean’s large hands now, their long fingers holding it with the utmost care. Those artist’s hands, unused and a little weary looking, were still as beautiful as he remembered them.  


“I will.”  


“When you’re finished...we can talk.”  


Dean suddenly dropped the book and pulled Seamus onto him, letting their lips clasp together in a hot kiss. Each feeling was a flame, one of longing and despair, but of relief as well. Seamus felt himself completely melting.  


Violently pushing the dark man down onto the crisp bedsheets, he gripped the waist before him as they continued to use their force against and with one another. Soft moans escaped someone’s lips. There was an immediate silence from outside the bed. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to be making out -- but who cared?  


The flowing feeling came to a sudden stop as they pulled apart with care. Dean was staring at him as he sat up on his knees, eyes echoing warmth and longing. There was no doubt in Seamus’ mind that he himself looked the exact same way right then.  


Without another word, he was sitting on Dean’s lap with Dean’s arms around his waist as Dean peeled open the book and flipped through to find the first entry of this year. Seamus only halfheartedly watched him, sinking into the soft feeling of the man behind him with glee.  


Hours would no doubt pass, and maybe people would wonder what had become of them, maybe they wouldn’t: it didn’t matter. Seamus slowly felt his mind wander until he was drifting in a sea of haze, with Dean making small comments behind him every once in a while as the book was read with extreme focus. Seeing only one side of Dean was weird, when he opened his eye again he could only see the hand holding the book. He glanced gently at what page it was on, and nodded softly at the title, which was sometime in December.  


Dean squeezed him tightly all of a sudden as he read the page, and Seamus let out a little sigh. It was a squeeze of fear and worry. There had been one earlier, not too long ago, probably during the November entry that had described a little of the torture implemented in October. He had been completely unable to write much about that one, though, as he’d been too worried about what Dean might think if he ever read it.  


As he’d said, the entries only had so much in them. Usually, he was unable to write full reports of what the tortures had been like each time, therefore there would still be plenty of explaining to do. Sometimes some of the entries only said things like “Alecto got her way again” and then a rant about how much he missed Dean would follow. The topic would not return to the torture until a future entry; it was simply how the writing had always flowed.  


“Shay… what language did you write in here? What happened to you?” Dean muttered a long ways in.  


One glance at the short, choppy writing told all that needed to be told.  


Seamus had been heavily injured at the time of writing that one, and it appeared he had been affected by the amount of Cruciatus used as well. The last writing he’d done, only two days ago, had been his cleanest handwriting in a while, and even that was awful. His mind was still only thinking in brief thoughts.  


After that, it was squeezes here and there as parts were read; then, silence for a very, very long time. Seamus dozed off in the comfortable arms of his lover.  


Gentle shaking eventually forced him to crack open his eyes, and he looked up into a dark, gently smiling face, chocolate eyes aglow. So it had been finished, a good few hours later.  


“Shay… I know you have more to fill in but - but I’m not sure how much more of that I can handle.” Dean pulled him closer, forcing his head up a little more, “I’m so sorry … I had no idea leaving you here would do that. I don’t know what you’ve seen this year...but it clearly wasn’t pretty…And here I kept telling myself you were fine, you’d be okay, you’d survive. I was wrong.”  


“Yeh weren’t … yeh weren’t horribly wrong,” Seamus was currently taking it into account that outside their bed, there was still murmuring. Clearly only about two hours had passed, if people were still grouped in the dorm. “I … I did suffer with reason.”  


“But it wasn’t completely reasonable suffering, Shay, you…you probably nearly died so many times, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t help you at all…” Dean had buried his face deep into Seamus’ hair.  


“You did help me. Yeh kept me alive, Dean, yeh kept me alive more than yer thinkin’.”  


“How? By … by not being there and subjecting you to that-that torture?”  


A terror had entered Dean’s voice that scared Seamus as much as Dean was no doubt feeling for him. There had been so much that had happened. Dean wasn’t the one to blame, not at all.  


With soft whisperings of nonsensical words, he pulled himself up by the other’s neck to look him straight in the eyes, turning his body nearly on top of Dean’s now. His sight tunneled into the one eye that he could see: becoming lost in that chocolatey texture.  


“They say eyes are the gateway to the soul,” it didn’t mean much normally, but in that moment, Seamus believed he could see into Dean’s soul, and it was full of longing and love, “I wanna make sure yeh understand things before I go into any explanation. Ever. No matter when I go into them. I … I personally took it upon meself to be tortured, this year, all because… because of yeh, Dean. Because of yeh.”  


Dean made a little shake of the head, as if to try and convince Seamus otherwise. As if there would ever be any other person or reason to do this for.  


“Dean…” He took a long look into the eye, “I did this… all for you.”  


In that moment of silence, where even outside their curtains was silent, he felt the shuddering breath being drawn. It was his and Dean’s breath -- both breathing in heavily at the same time.  


Tears destroyed the veil of silence, ripping it to absolute shreds, as Dean lay fully down now, pulling them together. Seamus could hear the intakes of breath from outside as people heard them both break down into sobs. These were the same body-racking sobs from before, but now it was the both of them. Seamus gave in, allowing everything to consume him.  


Doubt, fear, rage, horror, all mixed together as they poured out of his body. Maybe other people were listening in. It truly didn’t matter.  


“Oh Shay, Shay I’m sorry, oh god… I’m sorry…” Dean ruffled his hair a bit more as he choked the words through the sobs.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


There was nothing to say. No plead, nor any cry for help to be made; only the grim sounds of drying eyes and the shuffling of feet on the cold stone floors. It was simply clean, clean, clean. A bit of blood here and there could easily be cleaned up with a swipe of the wand, and the bodies were moved through the air, to be buried outside somewhere in the grounds. There was a large spot picked out for the ones that were not being placed somewhere by their families, because these were all members of Hogwarts. Respect would be shown for them, no matter how many or how few years they had attended .  


All Houses resided quietly there, moving slowly as they helped the process move along. This was only the beginning of it all, as later on, things were going to require actual construction. Hogwarts would not be itself for quite a while yet.  


Seamus moved along with the others; a rhythm had grown from the chores of the cold bodies that needed to be placed in the correct areas made for each one. He could hardly look at each one that was moved with care, even if their faces were completely distorted. Dean moved around at the other end of the Hall, assisting with the cleaning up of all spots on the floor.  


“He went down below a wall,” A voice softly said, a hand pointing at the body Seamus was lifting, “I watched it from a distance…”  


Looking up, he caught the gentle eyes of Cho Chang, who had returned to the castle for the fighting at some point or another. She was lowering her shoulders from a soft shrug. Earlier she had been kneeling by Lavender, who had been severely injured from Greyback, with Parvati. The injured were still on their platforms; but as Lavender was going to make it, Cho seemed capable of moving again. She’d been up in the dorm room at some point earlier as well.  


A shudder passed through him as he thought of the events earlier. The sobs had been long, tedious, and drawn-out from both of them as they’d clung to each other. And then, faintly, he’d heard tears from outside the curtains, people joining them in their crying, probably some clinging to others as well.  


After that they’d been requested to go down and help, although Dean had promised they’d get alone in that bed again at some point. Seamus simply wanted to talk for so much longer -  


“Seamus? Are you okay?” Cho had been calling his name for a bit now, and he looked up suddenly, breaking from his thoughts.  


“Uh, yeah, sorry. Drifted off…”  


“It’s fine, I was just - just worried a bit. It’s hard not to be. I can’t believe what you guys went through here, Lav’s going to tell me loads once she’s healed, she promised me that much.” He had to smile at that, knowing just how much Lavender would talk once she got the chance.  


There was then a silence in which Cho moved away, and Seamus leant up against one of the walls, looking around.  


Neville was standing beside Luna - who’s arm was in a bandage - talking and looking actually happy for the first time since… Seamus wasn’t sure when. That unused smile struck him with the novelty that none of them had smiled like that for ages. At least Luna could make Neville smile again; at one point in time, Seamus hadn’t been sure he’d ever see anyone smile again.  


The rest of the Great Hall was slowing down in their work, drifting to other parts of the castle. Food was being served at some point in the evening for all. No one was leaving quite yet. Even many Slytherins had remained, and Seamus was sure he’d seen Malfoy skulking around somewhere.  


A tall shadow came over his limited vision, and Seamus looked to see Dean standing in front of him, a gentle look on his face now. And for the first time in that long year, Seamus smiled one of his genuine smiles that lit up the room in the Great Hall.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


“I feel guilty asking this of you, love, but… I think … could we sleep together again? Tonight?” Seamus couldn’t quite get over the fact that Dean was using adorable nicknames, but he nodded a bit.  


Hogsmeade had managed to supply places to sleep in for everyone who was assisting with the cleaning that could be done, and Seamus had wanted so badly for Dean to ask this question, even the dusty bedroom and old beds wouldn’t convince him out of it. Yes, their friends might be right next door or outside or whatever, but they had been sleeping in the same bed for years. No one would notice anything _terribly_ different.  


Glowing moonlight flooded the room as Seamus prepared to settle in bed. A wicked look had entered in the other man’s eyes as they’d begun to get ready, and despite all the aches and pains in his body, Seamus sure hoped that look meant what he thought it meant. He settled onto the bed, listening to the sounds of people moving across the hall, through the wall too.  


“Where should we start? Softly, of course,” he smirked at the taller man, knowing Dean would try for rough right from the beginning.  


But true to his word, Dean kept with a gentle kiss at first. Soft lips touched Seamus’ chapped ones, causing him to arch up slightly to get at them.  


Dean made his way to Seamus’ neck when he suddenly looked up, eyes filled with lust and longing. The same feeling had Seamus begging for him to continue.  


“Shay, can you take off your shirt?”  


It hit him that he had never written much about his own appearance through all of those months in the journal entries. Now the truth would come out as his shirt came off. Dean would learn of all that had happened. _He would know._  


The hesitation that was blatantly obvious caused Dean to back off a little. Concern peeled across his dark face.  


“Su-sure.” The nod was slow, but meaningful.  


In an instant, his shirt was off; and Dean was definitely gaping at him, as his eyes slowly took in every scar. Each whip mark stood out brightly against his already extraordinarily pale skin. The bruises that had never really healed in the past weeks were still visible all over the place, and there was probably still some amount torn skin.  


“Shay…” Dean said, sounding so concerned it hurt something in his chest to hear it. “Shay, what did they do to you?”  


Suddenly words were gone. He could only shake his head and bite back the tears that had randomly appeared in his throat. No.  


“Shay, love, talk to me. Please. Look at you,” the tone was so … sorry, “look what they did to you...what they’ve done to you…”  


“I know…” The breath he drew in was extremely shaky and yet he had heard the tears in Dean’s voice too, in fact, he could see them, brimming in Dean’s eyes, threatening to overflow. “I know.”  


Things appeared to have escalated faster than he’d predicted, but it was no surprise Dean was in shock and terrified.  


“Oh Seamus…” The tears had found the surface and were silently pouring down those beautifully crafted cheekbones.“They did so much...took so much…”  


“They didn’t take you, Dean.” He said, watching those watery chocolate eyes turn up to him. “That’s all that matters. I love you. Dean, I love you so fecking much and I can’t even begin to express to you how much you mean to me because even a really tough shag couldn’t show you all of those emotions.”  


There was a small smile at his choice of words, but the tears were still pouring. Lifting a hand, he touched Dean’s face delicately, wiping away each tear as it came down his face. Scars were always going to be part of his life. He knew it, and now the one who’d have to deal with it just as frequently did too.  


“God...Shay…look-did they whip you on your chest?!” It was a shout or a yell -- almost. Seamus thought he heard the noise outside the room disappear at this exclamation, but he let such matters be.  


“Y-yes…” This time his voice was stuttered due to tears clogging up his airway, seeing Dean cry this much over him was almost unbearable.  


“Ho-no...that’s...bloody hell…” Dean was sobbing now. “That’s insane, Shay.”  


“I know, I know Dean, I know…” He took one of the long fingered hands in his, gently entwining his fingers in the dark ones.  


“Multiple times too by the looks of it.” A choking noise was heard as Dean tried to overcome one of many sobs, but he wasn’t looking at Seamus anymore, as if he was ashamed of crying.  


“What did that?” The touch on his knife wound was strangely arousing and he felt a tremor pass through him as Dean’s fingers lightly touched it.  


“Knife to the gut...December…” He choked it out, still not breaking his gaze with Dean.  


“A knife?” Horror seeped into Dean’s voice.  


“He...it was him…” Shaking his head, he found he was unable to speak the name of the man who had brought so much torment into his life.  


“Shay…”  


“Dean, look at me, babe.” With the other hand, he lifted Dean’s chin up to look at him. “What I went through...it’ll always be there on me body. It’s shocking as hell, I know…”  


“Shay-god…you’re...I...Seamus…” Dean nearly shook his head right out of his hand as he spoke. The sobs had become completely racking ones, and with a gentle touch of his arms, he pulled Dean on top of him, ignoring any of the pain coming from the newest bunches of bruises that hurt quite a lot still. The pain didn’t matter. What mattered was Dean.  


The huge sobs shaking the man’s thin body were heartbreaking. Seamus didn’t care that all of the tears were soaking into his skin, he didn’t care about the way his bruises were crying out against the pain of the heavy head. The initial shock was still being processed for Dean, and he needed to let it pass.  


“Shay… Shay what’s all over your back, turn around, please,” No, no not more of this, no matter how much Dean could feel on his back. “I mean it, Shay…”  


All of his willpower left him at the sound of that voice. He gave in. Letting go completely of the taller man, he turned around and sat there so Dean could see for himself the desolation that was Seamus’ back. It was pockmarked, there were lines all over from the whip: the same rigid lines as there were on his chest. The bruises were all significantly larger on his back, so much so that Seamus had felt it enough to know that most of his back was simply one giant bruise. From the sounds of the quick breaths, Dean was staring at all of this in utter horror.  


“Your back is one giant bruise.” It was an awkwardly loud statement - and also it was as if his thoughts had been read - but Seamus gave only a nod. “Shay, how do you stand? How have you been standing?”  


“I...Dean…” Turning so he could see the other, he gave a sad smile at the sobbing mess that was his dearly beloved, “Some things you’re … you’re forced to learn.”  


A moment passed where Dean stared at him in absolute horror, face tilted, tears still going down in their familiar pattern, and then Seamus found himself tackled under Dean on the bed. There was a head on his neck now, nestling in, as the sobs became harder and very loud again. A few tears slipped from his own eyes now.  


The moon was slipping quietly into the night still, climbing higher in the sky. What had started out crisp and pure was now racked with pain and longing and disappointment and fear. Perhaps some other time they might have a good night. For now, it was merely the acceptance of his body that Seamus was longing for and gaining most.  


  
***********************************************************************************************************************************************  
  


The grounds echoed with the sounds of people saying their goodbyes through the bright sunlit courtyard and at the gates. Even though much destruction still remained in this area - left for the larger clearing groups the Ministry would send some day in the future - the largest swarm of people were gathered out here. Some were in clumps, some mingled through the various “clumps”, a few stood alone in silence. Seamus had been one of those drifting through people, saying goodbye with much reluctance.  


These were some of the people who had struggled through what he had all year long as well after all, and it felt wrong to leave them _now_. _Now,_ when the worst parts could resurface in one’s head. _Now,_ when they were just getting their lives back in place. Back to where they were before this past year? No; but hopefully somewhere close.  


Somewhere… somewhere close.  


Harry stood at the center of the largest clump of people, saying goodbye individually of course. Many were wishing him more luck than he seemed able to give back out to them. It was with whatever amusement Seamus could muster that he watched Neville take a very long time to say goodbye to the Boy Who Lived. The humor was lack-luster of course; as he realized that he was saying goodbye to people he’d lived with for 6 to nearly 7 years.  


“Hey, Seamus,” Neville had finished up hugging Harry, and was standing in front of him now. He looked up, and smiled gently, but only really half-heartedly… this was it, wasn’t it?  


“Oi, mate, you’re looking a little teary-eyed there.” His teasing about that meant nothing, Seamus wanted to break down and bawl right then and there.  


“Get in here, you idiot,” Grabbing him, the taller boy wrapped his arms strongly around Seamus.  


Moments like these were always hard to find for Seamus. All the overwhelming emotion of it was choking him, because as he’d thought, this really was _it_. Neville had been through so much with him. They’d actually done it.  


“We feckin’ made it, Neville, we made it,” He babbled into the other’s ear.  


“I hardly believe it…” Neville was as breathless as he at this fact.  


It was only when they pulled away did Seamus realize that he’d been crying gently, as was Neville. For a moment, he just watched the other boy.  


Hell and back. Maybe their own private sections of hell, in fact, but all part of one giant hell. The battered appearance of both of their faces’ was enough to prove it, Neville looked as bad as he did - face wise - or at least close.  


“We’re gonna talk sometime, Nev.” He said it, knowing full well it was meaningful.  


“I’ll find you somehow,” Neville grinned, “And… Seamus, just so you know… I don’t think I’m ever going to forget this year. So if you need to talk it out…and I mean you’re allowed to talk about it to Dean too, but if you need to talk it out with me for some odd reason, I’d be really happy to oblige. It would be… different from other people who didn’t … do what we did, you know?”  


“Yes. Yeah, that would be nice. I’ll send an owl yer way sometime,”  


With that, Neville gripped Seamus’ shoulder once more and squeezed it; and walked away. Seamus watched his retreating figure for a few steps, the tears not stopping and the choking feeling still there. _Wow._ For a moment or two, he stood, ignoring all of the hundreds of people around him who may have seen him crying. All these people were saying goodbye as well. But not like that goodbye; not like that goodbye.  


“Seamus?” It was Harry, coming up from behind him now, and he turned to offer a weak smile at the raven-haired boy who he’d called his “lunatic roomie” for years now.  


“Sorry if I intruded, I .. it’s nice to get away from people you hardly know sometimes, and … Sorry.”  


“Oh, yeh got nothin’ to be sorry for. I just had to send off Neville.” He shrugged pathetically, and Harry offered a smile as well. “So, yeh going to be busy as ever now?”  


“Yes, I … I probably am. But hey, if you want to meet up and whatever, you and Dean, we’ll probably manage to get a group scrapped together in a few months or something. Ginny and I already started talking about it. Exclusively school friends and all, but like a dinner group of sorts. Dean said he’d be okay with it, so I sort of assumed you would be too.”  


“That sounds nice. Gives me an excuse to leave the house, probably, chances of leaving it… Yeah. I like that thought.” He nodded as he barely finished off the sentence.  


Harry proceeded to do the same thing Neville had, which was pull him into a hug, although, a little unlike Neville’s, it was only a half-hug, and then a handshake. Seamus knew very well that normally hugs were off limits for them, for now Neville was almost as much of an exception to that rule as Dean was, at least after this past year. He smiled up at Harry, and nodded again.  


“Well, don’t yeh be gettin’ too famous and forgetting the rest of us,” Seamus spoke, allowing a small chuckle to pass between his lips, “I would really like to come to a dinner meeting and not be third-wheeling it or whatever.”  


“No problem. See you around, Seamus.”  


Someone came and swept Harry away at that moment, which was quite good timing in Seamus' opinion.  


Seamus glanced around again. Through the bright sunlight and the slight breeze came a blonde head - a person not much bigger than he was, or not taller at all - bobbing as she move. Luna.  


“I’m probably going to be very brief about this as Neville is waiting for me, but thank you so much, Seamus, and you’ll have to thank me too, after you find out what I did for you,” She was grinning in her own secret way, and he took her hand and shook it as she offered it to him.  


“I’m sure I will,” He smiled back, having not much of an idea of what she meant. She was gone in a flash before he could ask; Neville must have been growing “telepathically” impatient with her.  


Now it was time to catch his breath again. All around the area were students he’d seen tortured through the year, students who knew him as the one person who had stood up against the evil ones in the school but who might never really talk about him. He wouldn’t be Harry, he wouldn’t even be Neville. He would merely be “that Irish boy who got really beat up because he was stupid enough to stand against people”. That was enough for Seamus, because who really wants to be famous?  


A pair of strong arms wrapped around his neck suddenly, a shadow falling over him from the tall person above. He looked up into the chocolate warm eyes that stared back down at him, a faint smile on Dean’s lips.  


“Are you ready?”  


“Yeah.”  


“Good.” Dean grinned, and picked him up bridal style, Seamus found himself laughing harder now as he was forced to put his arms around the taller man’s neck, and they exited with shouts from various people saying farewells.  


The train ride back would be the one he hadn’t gotten this year. They would for sure get a compartment to themselves since not many people were taking the train back, and Seamus couldn’t wait for what he would do to Dean in there. They exited the grounds on foot this time, Dean still carrying him along the dampened road where many others walked along with them.  


With bright sunlight casting long shadows onto it, with the sun high in the sky, with birds singing in the trees, the blackness that had once been in the air around the castle was gone. A beautiful feeling rushed through him as he looked at Dean’s face. They were okay. This was okay.  


This was enough for Seamus, because who really needed anything other than a lover who was ready as all hell to go through whatever he had to in order to get this relationship fixed and actually going? And who really needed anything, anything at all but the love that all those Death Eaters would never have?  
Seamus didn’t know. And he hoped he never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love the comments (and kudos, certainly) I've gotten from this story, I'm pleased to have given people so much to worry and stress about, hope the hair loss hasn't been too bad -- no really, I'm really glad to see how many people have enjoyed this story.   
> Now it's up to my motivation and anyone else's urging to give you one last chapter. I'd really like to finally write an Epilogue chapter after all these months of this story just simply existing already, and I really hope I can get around to it soon. I do hope this isn't quite the end, and I do hope to satisfy you all once more after this chapter, maybe with something that's a little happier, even. Do expect an Epilogue chapter very soon, if you will wait around for it, it will come!  
> Thank you all for reading this far!


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, it's been a while. I apologize for how long it's truly been. But I come bearing some good news: I'm back with it! It's finally here!  
> I would like to thank everyone who's read this, who's commented or given kudos or bookmarked it and whatnot, and I'd like to thank everyone who may come across this in the future and will read it. I hope you all truly have enjoyed this torture as much as I have.  
> I began writing this epilogue in February of this year, but I was unable to finish until very recently due to life being insane. I meant to have it finished so much sooner, yet I hope this'll do and I hope it's decent enough for other people's eyes to lay upon it. It's a bit shorter than other chapters: as I wrote it it became clear to me this was not going to be a long ending, and in fact the brevity of it is what makes it good, at least, I believe so.  
> This fic has spent the last two years in the making/editing/revising world, and I can finally say that this is it's completion. Welcome to my grand finale.

The flat was small, yet spacious, and was all one could have asked for as a first house. They had moved in after getting everything arranged with Dean's family.  


Seamus had yet to return to his mother. She wouldn’t have wanted to see him, what with her concept of sodomy being completely backwards. Even when she did send an owl in desperate request that he come visit, come stay, Seamus was unable to respond with anything but “no”. It was nigh impossible to not feel depressed after such an interaction: but what else could he do?  


Now they were officially boyfriends, so no one could question the legality of it. And from what they had both just come out of, Seamus was certain there wasn’t time to question anything except his own sanity.  


Dean was dealing with things better. He wasn’t prone to falling into lengthy periods of silence mixed with times where his English got confused. Seamus had begun to see just how much his mind was affected from the past year, and it frightened him.  


He sat down on a chair in the drawing room in a silence that was unheard of one afternoon, two months after moving in. It was an unusually cool August day. Not much could be said for any future plans, and the thoughts of such things like jobs were only depressing him more, so he’d retired to sitting in silence.  


“Shay?” Dean’s voice called from the studio.  


“Yeah?”  


The tall man poked his head around the corner before he came into the room with quiet feet. Dean was aware something unspoken was in the air about them, it was a tension they had both gotten used to within the past few months. Seamus only started experiencing the feeling he had now when he grew overwhelmed.  


It wasn’t the musty smell of the flat, or the way the sun was shining faintly through the bright windows. It wasn’t anything in his surroundings: it was Seamus.  


“Shay…” Seamus found he was sitting beside his boyfriend now, who was taking him into his arms without any words having to be uttered.  


The feelings would emerge soon enough, as would the involuntary actions.  


He began to mutter incoherent words under his breath, pinching the chair lightly. The strong arms continued to hold him even as these pinches began to touch the flesh of the only person who could ever control Seamus.  


With violent noises that made no sense there was sudden motion from the small Irishman. Kicking and hitting accompanied the small pinches. The shouts could become screams without any spell to silence him - Dean uttered it just in time. Seamus cried out against it in his head, thoughts frothing at the edge of his mouth.  


These thoughts were irrational, damaging, echoes of what he had undergone for months and never seen any signs of. They bordered insanity. Colors whirled through his mind along with the broken thoughts of despair. Seamus had no control, he never had, he couldn’t ever think of a time where he might have.  


His shouts continued inside his mouth. Despite the violent movements, he could not free himself of the strong arms that held him.  


Restraint was bad. This was bad. Freedom was what was needed and this wasn’t freedom! He should’ve been allowed to -- no, no he was an awful person. Seamus had done so much that was regrettable. Every action was only to be blamed on himself.  


Tears started collecting at the man’s blue eyes. After only seconds of kicking and punching, Seamus collapsed into the other man’s body, giving up.  


“Shhh…. Don’t cry, Shay, don’t cry.” Dean whispered in his ear with gentle tones, stroking his hair. Seamus didn’t deserve this man.  


Proper thoughts returned to the Irishman’s head in a few minutes. The day already looked slightly brighter.  


“Dean…” his voice cracked as he spoke.  


“Don’t cry, babe. I know it’s hard, I know it hurts, I need you to calm down and breath and don’t let yourself cry this time.”  


Seamus twisted himself so that he could place his lips directly onto Dean’s without bothering for another sob to come out of his chest. He loved this man too much to let this be how he was. Despite the immense and obvious damage in his mind, Seamus refused to allow it to be checked on by anyone. Dean was the only person that could help. Dean would always be the only person who could ever help.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  


The moon shone brightly on the path, reflecting off of the surface of the lake that lay beside the pavement. A laugh echoed across the area through the cool breeze and cricket chirps that surrounded the park. Dean twirled Seamus around again with one hand as they both collapsed into fits of giggles.  


It had been a smooth-sailing evening. While Seamus wasn’t really one for long walks in the park, he never turned down the option when Dean offered up such a concept. After dinner, they’d walked out onto the grassy courtyard of the beautifully lit land, and escaped into the far wilder and less tame park nearby.  


Another spin and Seamus found himself flush against Dean, staring up into the other man’s eyes.  


What he saw there was quite strange indeed. All the love in the world echoed within those chocolaty depths, but fear traced their edges. Fear of what? What reason would Dean have to be scared around him?  


“Shay…” Even his voice was tinged with that strange, obscure fear that was visible in his eyes.  


“Yeah?” Seamus tried to be gentle, fear starting to creep up into his own mind.  


“I…I have something… I’d like to ask you.”  


And Dean knelt down in front of him, holding one of Seamus’ hands in his own.  


“Dean…” he said. He said it with a soft gasp as a wide range of emotions filled him.  


The other cleared his throat, “Shay, I love you. I … I love you as much as you no doubt already know, and I often find I love you even more than that. I know it’s hard, what with, well, everything from your mental state to family to the ever-ongoing process of recovery, but I thought we could… we could make it work. I know we can do this. I know you’ll agree with me on that. I think we can do this for a much longer time than either of us once thought we had, as well. I think we can do this the rest of our lives.  


‘So I want to ask you if you’re willing to do that. To spend the rest of your life with me, no matter the ridiculous pain, Seamus, I want to do this. Because there’s no other way I can live.  


‘Seamus Finnigan, will you marry me?”  


Seamus couldn’t ever truly find the words to describe the joy they experienced in the following hours.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  


“Well come on in!” Neville clapped a hand on his shoulder, beckoning both of them into the house.  


They were gathering for the bimonthly meetup/potluck dinner the old members of the D.A. had held since the ending of the war. Neville and Luna had volunteered to hold the July one for this time around since Neville was out of school. Seamus couldn't stop smiling, his nerves were bouncing around: they were going to tell everyone about their engagement tonight, having not told a single soul in the past two weeks.  


It had been a hard two weeks. He hadn't been able to tell anyone aside from those he saw at work, and Dean had only managed to convince him to be quiet with all sorts of treats. Now they were prepared to tell everyone who was terribly important to them in the most casual way possible.  


Dean squeezed his hand as they followed Neville into the main room of the decently sized house Luna had acquired for her and her boyfriend two years ago. Everyone was already there, standing about and talking. He spotted most everyone who was important: Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Cho, Lavender, Parvati all grouped up, and Luna who seemed to be talking with Teddy Tonks; amidst others who were placed all around. When they entered there was a round of greetings shouted and both of them replied.  


Ginny came and stole them away for some time, and for a while they stood and participated in mild conversation. Dean constantly threw him knowing glances: Seamus was practically bursting with the thrill of the secret at this point, and all they had done was hold hands the entire time. Dean was holding onto his ring hand so that there was at least one ring visible, but no one had picked up on it yet.  


It wasn't until everyone was seated around the table that they were finally able to reveal their secret.  


“I'm glad everyone could make it today. I don't think I could have cooked nearly enough food even with the help of our stove.” Neville announced, chuckling as he sat down.  


There were chuckles at that as everyone began passing food around the table systematically. As Seamus handed mashed potatoes to his fiance, someone - Cho - gasped from the other side of the table and he grinned at Dean.  


“Wait - Seamus, Dean - you - oh my god!” she was ecstatic, and gaping as she said it.  


The table had fallen silent at the outburst and all eyes turned to them. Lavender grinned at them as well when Cho pointed it out to her, very clearly aiming at Seamus’ arm with her finger.  


There was a brief moment of confusion as everyone tried to see his hand, and Seamus faked a reluctance as he raised it again, laughing as he did. As soon as everyone realized what the situation unrolling was, they all rushed to congratulate the pair. Dean had been laughing since he’d seen Cho’s face, and he continued as various people spoke.  


“Never thought you’d actually tie the knot.” Neville called out.  


“When did it happen?” asked Hermione, her face lit up.  


“Two weeks ‘go.” he smirked, relieved it had finally be said and done.  


Harry appeared to have done a double take, “Dean, you trusted Seamus to keep that in for two weeks?”  


“He managed it nicely.” Dean shrugged as he took Seamus’ hand in his once more.  


“I’d say…” Luna shook her head as she spoke.  


“When’s the wedding?” Parvati shouted.  


“We haven’t quite got a date yet, but we’ve been thinking sometime next March.” It hadn’t really been a conversation they’d held yet, but Dean had made the initial suggestion and Seamus gone along with it. March was a month they both held sacred after the year that very month had nearly destroyed the both of them.  


People shouted that they’d like to come up and down the table, and never before had Seamus truly realized the extent that he cared for all of the people seated around them.  


For a while, it had been a struggle to keep up communications with everyone. When he and Dean had moved in together, there wasn’t any real way to talk to friends or family. This potluck dinner concept came about almost a year later after the Battle of Hogwarts as a way to celebrate the anniversary: it had grown into a bimonthly event not long after. Seeing everyone again was always relieving, making sure everyone was alright and keeping track of how their lives were going kept all of them grounded.  


Because that year that they had spent fighting for their lives on all angles of the events that took place had brought them together like nothing known to any of them before. Dean was of course the center of the Irishman’s attention at all times, but he always cared for these people. They’d grown up together, they were getting married and letting each other in on their relationships together, even children - none of whom were here tonight - were born to some, and they were all in it together.  


Now, as he smiled at Dean, loving that glint in the other man’s eyes all the more, he also took in the excitement of everyone else around him. Seamus could almost believe that this sort of normalcy had always existed for all of them for their entire lives.  


A whole war could be forgotten because he was engaged to Dean Thomas.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  


With tentative fingers, he rubbed Dean’s shoulder a little. The night had been interrupted by both of them waking up with nightmares at the exact same time.  


It was hard to imagine the situation being any different anymore, but they both knew what their dreams had most likely contained. Seamus still shook from the vivid images that had flashed before him as he tried to get away. The images showed only the most upsetting and fitful events of what surely wasn’t years ago.  


Every time one of these events happened, it was hard to back away and ignore it. So they didn’t. Instead of turning from their fears, they addressed them and talked about them.  


Dean wasn’t quite willing to open up about his right now so Seamus was taking up the wheel.  


“I… I saw ye being hurt, Dean.” He began slowly, nerves bounding through his voice. The soft bed felt like it was still shaking as they lay there. “An’ then it turned to… to the whip.”  


The Irishman couldn’t help the crack his voice gave when he spoke of it. All of his nightmares ended with the whip, the image of it flying toward him in a fit of rage from whatever dark creature held it. This always woke him up, and it was always the end of sleep that night for him.  


Dean made a little mutter, pulling Seamus closer at the sound of such chaos. The man knew how much it hurt for Seamus to experience the nightmares.  


“I can’ bear to watch it, Dean, I can’ do it. Every time… every time it hurts…” he felt tears growing in his sleepy eyes, burrowing his face into his lover’s warm shoulder.  


“Neither can I… oh Shay, dearest one,” Dean mumbled. There was a moment as they lay both crying together in remorse for what they always saw on particularly bad nights. “I watched you … fly into the brush, hit by one of them. All in a matter of… seconds.”  


The tears poured from both of them as they held each other in a increasingly tighter hug. Crickets chirped from the walls, and a floorboard made a creaking noise from the pressure of gravity boring down on the old building. Seamus let out a hiccup as he lay there, feeling, feeling, feeling. Dean touching him in any manner grounded him.  


“Think we can… jus’ lie here for the rest of the night?” he asked.  


“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” replied Dean. That answered any question about scheduling that Seamus might have had. They never did anything on Saturdays.  


So in the darkness of that room, the Irishman allowed himself to cry out what was left of his tears. They both soon fell silent and the sound of the winter crickets took over. Dean was here, it would be alright, hell, they were busy planning a wedding right now and all Seamus could think about were horrible past events? He really needed to tone it down.  


At some point Dean fell asleep again. Seamus lay there feeling the soft breaths of his fiance echo in the tiny room as he began to feel comfortable again. The rest of the night would pass as these ones always did: Seamus, lying awake until dawn, admiring his sleeping lover from a close position. Dean would sleep until around 6 AM and then they’d make breakfast to calm down any remaining nerves still firing that either of them might have.  


Such a solid routine was something Seamus was very glad to have despite it’s not-so-constant repetition. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, content to stay where he was right up against Dean for the rest of time if he had to. Nowadays they had that sort of time, and it was glorious.  


***********************************************************************************************************************************************  


  


He sat at the desk, feeling absolutely lost for words. Many impossible things had happened before, but being lost for words? That was a new one.  


Seamus Finnigan could absolutely not figure out a word that properly described anything that dealt with his dearly beloved. Vows were far harder to write than he had ever anticipated, and he wasn’t about to give in an ask someone for help; even if it was 12 pm and he was supposed to be in bed with Dean by now.  


No, he was too stubborn to give up his position of power. Seamus would write his own damn vows if it took him all night long. They were only a week away from the wedding -- that was surely enough time to write them. He would make sure to write them no matter what, even if it took the next 5 days.  


Dean was so funny about the concept of vows. He wanted them, but he also didn’t want a Christian ceremony, and neither did Seamus. After a while of debate over how to properly execute the wedding they’d settled on a wizard-oriented ceremony. But they’d do their vows even if their wedding wasn’t what Seamus’ mother would have wanted. (None of it was the way she would have wanted.)  


This late at night, with the darkness crowding the corners of the room that weren’t lit by his lamp, the thought of his mother hurt more than it should have. Damn it, she was always secretly in the back of every thought. She wasn’t willing to attend her son’s wedding. The message he’d gotten back from her was full of scorn and disgust and it hurt like hell to see such words written by the one person he’d trusted for so long. Every word on that tiny paper had been dipped in poison, intended to harm him because he had gone against what she’d wished for him all those years ago. She’d made it clear that none of his family was to attend the wedding no matter the circumstances.  


With a drag of his hand across the seemingly blank paper, Seamus stood up and pulled himself away from his thoughts. It was not time to dwell on that: he had stopped caring quite so much about that whole mess ages ago. His fiance’s long, warm arms awaited in their bedroom, which was a comforting fact that saved his night from being full of depressing thoughts.  


Switching off the light, the Irishman moved to their bedroom with absolute certainty. There was Dean, faced toward the door yet not obviously conscious, the light on Seamus’ side of the bed still shining faintly. He clambered onto the bed, removing his pants quickly and crawling into Dean’s arms.  


The faint moan the tall man gave as he did was enough to let Seamus know that this was all he truly could manage for tonight. Words could be written later.  


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Crimson and white flowers adorned the hall, golden light streaming in through the windows as birds called from outside. People stood or sat in the rows of chairs that were set out, mingling patiently. Seamus breathed in a few times as he gazed at the beautiful place that was now their wedding hall.  


Dean’s parents had demanded it be at least a little similar to a Muggle ceremony, and so they had been given something similar to that. While wizard weddings were certainly different it was not hard to mix the two. Take out all of the aspects of the religion and one had a wizard wedding (although that reduced it to a few words, vows, and the kiss).  


It had been decided that Seamus would be the one to enter first. He was not against this idea. The most painful part of this whole experience was that he hadn’t been able to see Dean since this morning when they’d woken up. The memory of the morning brought a smile to his lips.  


No matter what his fiance said, there was no way either of them were morning people. 6 AM had been harsh. They took their time getting out of bed: Seamus had demanded they practically fuck right then and there. He wanted one last time - even if it meant excusing the previous night - as an unwedded couple. After finally getting out of bed at 6:45, decent enough timing, what with their ruffled, flustered appearances, they departed for the shower. The last of Dean that Seamus had seen was the smile on the other man’s very flustered face as he walked into their conjoined bathroom.  


Now he was standing at the corner of the hall, not really breathing.  


“Seamus, if you don’t calm down right now, I’m going to have to escort you from the building for some fresh air, aren’t I?” Neville spoke from beside him, and he jumped at the sound.  


“No - no. ‘m good.” His voice trembled terribly.  


The look from Neville was one he had to admit he had gotten used to seeing a few years back.  


“But what if I screw up?! He’ll never forgive me!” Seamus whimpered, giving in to the feelings that were suddenly inside him. Even the thoughts of his morning weren’t any comfort.  


“You’re going to be perfectly fine, Seamus. I need you to be aware that you have rehearsed this, that this is about to be set in stone, that it’s going to be okay. And do you honestly think Dean will be truly upset if you mess up a little bit? I’ll bet you anything he _will_ mess up something himself.” Ginny appeared from absolutely nowhere.  


He wanted to argue otherwise: Dean was perfect, Dean knew what he was doing, Dean was more aware of the scenario they had decided to throw themselves into; Dean was, well, _Dean_. Yet absolutely nothing seemed to convince Ginny that he was not going to be okay if something went wrong. She was totally steadfast in her encouragement.  


“If there is one thing I learned from marrying that goofball over there,” she said, and nodded in Harry’s direction, “It’s that one can never predict what is going to happen at any point in a relationship, and that includes a wedding. So get your ass together, Seamus Finnigan, and get ready to make that man your husband.”  


She handed him a tissue and marched off in a different direction. Seamus couldn’t deny: she was certainly a ferocious woman. Her mannerisms were as terrifying as Hermione could be, in a different way.  


The Irishman took another deep breath with a nod to Neville, and pulled his body up straight. He was going to do this. Dean Thomas was going to be his husband and all because he loved him more than anything he’d ever found in his entire life.  


Notes began playing from the one piano player they’d employed: Hermione Granger sat there with her hands gently pressed against the keys. Who knew she’d be a good suggestion for music?  


Seamus got himself ready to walk.

  


Dean entered after him, and Seamus felt as though someone had kicked him in the gut. (He knew very well how that felt.) Except this time it was a good feeling because he couldn’t actually breath from beauty instead of pain.  


That man in a suit was the only thing Seamus had ever needed more than anything. This was the most beautiful Dean had looked in public -- the bedroom was a different story, but still this captivated Seamus in a new way. He literally stopped breathing.  


As soon as his fiance stepped to stand in front of him, Seamus grinned.  


“Hello, love.” Dean whispered in the drowning silence of the hall.  


“Hey.” It was literally all he could manage.  


“We are gathered here today,” the appointed “preacher” began with a flourish of his arms that was hard to not laugh at, “To celebrate the matrimony of these two wonderful young men.”  


All Seamus could stare at the entire time was Dean’s gorgeous rich brown eyes, of which were staring into Seamus’ own brilliant blue pair. He did not have the attention span to listen to the continuous flow of words from the man standing between them. These were not words of the Bible, no, they were words of a Wizards’ wedding ceremony, supposedly rich in enchantments of some type or other. But Seamus didn’t care for the words very much at all.  


In fact, even if the rehearsal had proven that this was going to be a short wedding, everything seemed to have slowed down significantly. It felt like the whole world was going in slow motion -- and that was horrible. Seamus wanted it to be over, he wanted it to be finished, desperately, so desperately.  


And then, it came to the vows.  


The speaker finished his words, and Dean cleared his throat a little as silence settled like a blanket once more over the crowd. Not a whisper was to be heard.  


“Shay, I… I always thought I should be the one to start this, and I guess I wasn’t wrong.” Dean managed a small giggle, Seamus could only manage a smile in his mesmerized state. “You’re probably the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t care how cheesy that sounds, you are amazing, awesome, adorable, and courageous, so, so very courageous. I never thought much of bravery until I met you.  


‘You’ve kept me alive for all these years. I know you know what it means to me that I was able to retain what I could of you for… for those horrible months that we spent apart. But I had no idea that while I was busy running, you were standing and fighting, being the bravest you could possibly be. That stupid stubborn attitude of yours, it’s what keeps your flame burning. It is what keeps my flame burning.” Dean paused. Seamus briefly wondered if he had actually stopped breathing. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life waking up with you, no matter the manner of the waking up. This is the most important commitment of my life. And I’m glad you’re a part of it.”  


There was a brief silence as Seamus choked back the tears that hadn’t escaped in order to be able to talk, and then, without hesitation, he pulled out the page in his breast pocket and began to speak, holding the paper. It would come into play as soon as he’d done the proper introduction for it.  


“I think I should say that the first few times I tried to write this, this utter nonsense we call vows,” he chuckled weakly, “I was completely lost. I didn’t know what to say, an’ I think that may be only the… second time in my entire life that this has happened?  


‘So then I began to think about everything I’d ever written about ye. I thought about all the words I had painstakingly written no matter how I was feeling because it was what literally kept me alive. An’ damn, Dean, I came across bits and pieces as I poured over this stupid little book I’d written for all me years, and I couldn’t quite figure out exactly how they shoulda been arranged. So I want you to read this segment I found from fourth year, an’ then the one below that from fifth year, and then from sixth year, jus’ these little segments that I think you oughta read. Read ‘em right now. Take your time.” Dean took the paper gently, and began to read as the room returned to silence once more.  


Seamus was only there to watch Dean’s expression as he took the paper. He was only able to watch as Dean read it in wonder, the selections were specific to the other man’s needs. It was the only way Seamus knew how to do anything and some of those writings had been especially beautiful.  


And when it was done, Dean looked up with tears running down his face and everyone else in the room disappeared.  


“I thought you’d like to know that I’ve always sorta loved ya. I just din’ realize it in time.”  


There were no words to follow it up. The speaker took up the job of making everyone else in the room comfortable, leaving Seamus to try and comfort his crying lover, who was gripping Seamus’ hands tighter now. They took what the speaker handed them and then it was time.  


“You may kiss the groom.”  


Seamus showed no signs of restraint, he lost himself because already no one had existed aside from Dean for minutes upon minutes.  


The sparks that flew were the most spectacular Seamus had ever experienced in his life.  


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“Come on…” Gentle hands played in his hair, forcing him to try and open his eyes.  


Seamus had never once imagined what heaven was like. The man had rarely thought of religion as a worthwhile pastime for many years now, and yet, heaven was certainly a delightful concept. Seeing as it was what he was surrounded by, it almost felt like it was a manageable thing, utopia.  


This was their honeymoon, and it was golden as the sun that set in the sky every evening over the water and waves and sand. When Seamus had first proposed the concept of a tropic location he had not anticipated the wild glee Dean had shown at the idea. For all of their lives, neither had truly been to a beach quite like this. Sure, the sea had been in plain sight from Seamus’ childhood home: but it was not like the beaches of Hawaii.  


“Mmf …” he forced his eyes open the rest of the way to look up at Dean, trying to sink deeper into the other man’s thighs. “I wanna sleep more.”  


Dean chuckled, “You’ve been sleeping for hours. Let’s take a walk or something, love.”  


It wasn’t hard for Dean to convince him to do anything. It never had been.  


“Fine.” Seamus sat up and brushed off the sand that lay across his chest.  


They made their way down the beach a little ways from the house, looking up at the crystal blue sky and the deliriously blinding sun. Birds of all sorts flew across the waters, the equally crystal blue waters that matched the sky, meeting it at the very edges. Seamus gripped Dean’s hand tightly in his. The silence they shared as they walked meant more than any simple conversation ever would or ever had.  


Everything seemed so small and far away now. Great Britain, Ireland, Scotland, all of these lands lay behind them now. They would return in a few weeks to adjust to a married life and reunite with friends and the family they had, but it was not that time yet. The dreamy qualities of being newlyweds still cloaked them like a fog. Seamus loved the feeling.  


He also loved the feeling of Dean’s long hands against him in any way that was possible. He loved Dean’s hands. He loved Dean’s eyes, those deep chocolate brown eyes that reflected what he saw and what he wanted to see. Seamus loved the man’s smooth skin, it’s shade. His bright smile, the way that face lit up every time the Irishman did some silly little thing or made a comment that was pleasing.  


They had been through _so much shit_.  


And boy was Seamus glad that Dean loved him back enough that the shit wasn’t _quite so bad_.


End file.
